by Desiree Holt
He shoved his phone back into its holster on his belt. Damn it to hell anyway. Something definitely smelled about this whole setup but he just couldn’t put his finger on it.
Ron Pelley controlled himself with superhuman effort. This had been such a stupid idea, to involve all three of them, and he’d been very vocal in expressing his opinion to everyone. He was the logical person to receive the ransom request. He was the logical person to be the contact. He’d argued and argued about letting the Feds know all three had been contacted but he was overridden. Now, because of this stupidity, the FBI would be crawling all over not one but three places, tripping over their own feet and probably endangering everyone and everything at the same time.
He couldn’t believe how badly he wanted a drink. What a mess this whole situation was. Anthony Delaware had to speak to him twice before he was even aware of the words.
“Excuse me?” He looked up at the agent.
“I asked you if you’d figured out yet where you were going to get the money from. And if necessary, if you could get your hands on Eli Wright’s assets to pay the ransom.”
“I’d need the account numbers and locations,” he said. “I don’t get involved in his personal finances.”
“How will you justify pulling that much money out of Wright International? Don’t you have officers and stockholders that you’re accountable to?” Delaware persisted.
Pelley nodded. “Yes but I certainly don’t have time to get in touch with all of them. Right now I just want to pull the funds out. Eli can replace them when we get him back. The problem is, very little is liquid. We have to convert a lot of things and I’ve already started that process.”
With a lot of flak from the banks and the accountants. They demanded an explanation and he couldn’t give it to them. What a freaking mess this all was.
“If these are experienced kidnappers—and I have a feeling they are—they’ll know that and allow for the time.” He grunted his displeasure. “Let’s just hope they don’t decide to do any more damage to their hostages while they’re waiting.”
Pelley felt the sick feeling rise in him again. He was pacing the floor when his cell phone rang. For a moment he just looked at the offending instrument lying on his desk, almost afraid to find out who was on the other end.
“Well?” Delaware asked. “Aren’t you going to answer it? What if it’s the kidnappers?”
Reluctantly Pelley snatched the phone up, flipped it open and looked at the caller ID. He recognized the number as one written on the back of the Phoenix Agency card. It was almost as if his question to the FBI agent had called them up.
Shit. No, double shit.
Swallowing a sigh, he pushed Talk.
“This is Pelley.”
“Mark Halloran here. I was just wondering if you’d received any more information on where the Wrights and Mari Culhane have disappeared to.”
Pelley held the phone to his chest, looked at Delaware and mouthed the words Mark Halloran from Phoenix.
Delaware held out his hand. “I’ll talk to him.”
“Pelley?” Mark repeated impatiently. “You there?”
He heard the shuffling sound of the phone being handed to someone else, then a strange voice came on.
“Who am I speaking to?”
Mark held the phone out, stared at it, then put it back to his ear. What the hell? “Who am I speaking to?”
“This is Anthony Delaware, Special Agent in Charge of the San Antonio, Texas FBI office. Want to tell me who you are?”
Mark didn’t know whether to be pleased or angry. So Pelley had called in the Feds. Nice of him to let them know.
“Mark Halloran of the Phoenix Agency. I’m going to assume Ron Pelley has told you of our interest in this case and why.”
“Yes. You have a friend whose sister was traveling with the Wrights.” Delaware paused. “I’m guessing your friend still hasn’t heard from her sister?”
“That’s correct.” Mark ground his teeth with impatience. “We’re obviously concerned. I’ve tried to get information from Ron Pelley but he doesn’t seem to be very forthcoming.”
“There’s a good reason for that.” Another pause. “I’ll be frank with you, Mr. Halloran. We have a…situation here.”
“A situation,” Mark repeated. “Care to tell me exactly what kind?”
“First I need your assurance that you won’t interfere with anything that’s going on. The safety of the people involved is the most important thing.”
“Goddamn it!” Mark exploded. “Are you going to tell me what the hell this is about or do I have to go over your head and rattle some cages?”
The pause this time was even longer and Mark could hear hushed conversation in the room.
“All right.” Delaware was back. “Fine. In a nutshell, the Wrights and Miss Culhane have been kidnapped.”
“Kidnapped.” Mark repeated the word softly, his body tensing. Bloody hell. “Do you even know if the hostages are still alive?”
“We’ve had proof of life and now a ransom demand. But we need to handle this as delicately as possible. Which means you backing off and leaving it in the hands of the FBI.”
Mark forced himself to breathe evenly. “No offense, Agent Delaware, but I think we’ve had as much experience in this as you have. This proof of life. Does it show them unharmed? And is there any sign of where they’re being held?”
“They seem to be okay right now.” Mark didn’t like Delaware’s cautious tone. “We don’t know as yet where they’re being held but we’re working on it.”
“Working on it,” Mark repeated. “Well, isn’t that just dandy. Can you email me the notes Pelley received?”
“I don’t think that would be a good idea. You need to let us work this from our end. I promise we’ll keep you in the loop.” He lowered his voice. “I can take this upstairs just as well as you can,” he warned. “My bosses don’t like outside interference.”
“Except when they can’t get the job done themselves,” Mark spat at him.
“Mr. Pelley tells me he has your phone numbers. I promise to keep you up to date.”
“How much are they asking for?” Mark demanded.
“Ten million dollars.”
For a minute Mark forgot to breathe. “That’s a hell of a lot of money. Can Pelley get his hands on it?”
“He says he can but he’ll need a little time.”
Mark gripped the cell phone so hard it almost cut into his hand. “A little time. Those people may not have a little time. Do you have a deadline yet?”
“No but we should hear from them before long with that information. Mr. Halloran, I need to get off the telephone now. I promise we’ll keep you informed.”
Mark realized he was listening to dead air.
“Hell and damnation.” He pressed the speed dial button for Andy. “Have you got those emails decoded yet? I need them now. No, make that five minutes ago.”
* * * * *
“The business floor setup is for maximum privacy,” Mike told Kat as they left the elevator. “Instead of one large room for everyone to crowd into, they have several small rooms, each one identically outfitted. That’s why so many high-profile business people use this place. It caters to what they need.”
“I’ll bet it’s pretty pricey,” she commented.
“But worth the money. I got a key card for one of the rooms when we checked in, just in case. I never know when I might need their equipment.” He slid the key card into the slot, waited for the light to turn green and pushed open the door, entering the room a few steps ahead of Kat.
Neither of them had noticed the man who exited one of the other elevators, headed down the hall and stopped, his face a mask of shock and rage. They didn’t hear his soft footsteps on the rug either. In fact, neither of them was aware of his presence in the room with them, as focused on their errand as they were, until Kat felt a fist grab her hair and yank her backward. The sharp pain brought tears to her eyes and a scream
burst from her mouth.
“Mike!” She backpedaled as the man dragged her toward him. “Mike, help.”
“I’ve got you now, you little bitch.” His voice had a vicious—and familiar—sound to it. “You can’t imagine how sorry you’re going to be, running out the way you did and then avoiding me.”
At the sound of Kat’s cry, Mike spun on his heels. He was momentarily stunned at the sight of the big man practically yanking Kat’s hair out of her head, the fury in his eyes and the fear in Kat’s. Then he shifted into automatic, moving without even thinking, his reflexes taking over. One leg flew up, catching the man at a painful spot in the elbow, then his hand drove into the man’s throat.
Shocked with pain, Brent Fontaine released his grip on Kat, dropped his briefcase and backed up to the wall, gagging.
“Who the hell are you?” His voice sounded like it was scraping over raw concrete.
Mike had immediately put Kat behind him and now stood nose-to-nose with Fontaine. She knew his relaxed attitude belied the tense readiness of his body.
“The bigger question,” Mike said, “is who the hell are you?”
“Why don’t you ask that whore behind you?” He was struggling to get out every word, his hands still massaging his throat.
Mike took two steps closer and closed his big fist on Fontaine’s throat, brushing his hands aside as if they were wisps of cloth. “You watch your mouth if you want to keep breathing. Kat, who is this animal? Do you know him?”
“His name is Brent Fontaine.” Kat forced the words out, her hands rubbing the spot on her head where her hair had been yanked.
“You know him?”
Kat was afraid for a moment she would faint. Then she almost wished she would. She clenched her trembling hands into fists and shoved them in the pocket of her slacks. Finally, after three tries, she managed to speak.
“Unfortunately, yes.” She cleared her throat, then said again, louder, “Yes. I know him.”
“Is he the guy leaving you all those messages that upset you so much? The ones you didn’t want to tell me about?”
“Of course she didn’t tell you,” Fontaine croaked.
Without taking his eyes off Fontaine, Mike said, “Call Mark and get him down here right now. Take my phone and press three. That connects directly to him.”
Her hands were shaking so badly it took her two tries to get the phone out and press the button. Then all she could say was, “Mark? We’re in Room Four on the business floor. Come quickly.”
Fontaine was still struggling against Mike’s hold. ”She certainly ran fast enough from my bed to yours, the slut,” he rasped. “Whoever the hell you are, you got yourself a bad bargain.”
Mike shifted his arm so his forearm lay firmly across the man’s throat, the thumb and forefinger of the other hand pinching hard on a pressure point where the shoulder and neck joined. “If I were you I would just shut the fuck up before someone crushed my vocal cords.”
Fontaine’s face twisted in pain and rage. As he tried to croak out a response a knock sounded on the door.
“Me,” Mark called from the hall.
Kat hurried to let him in.
Mark entered, gun in hand, Faith right behind him. His eyes quickly assessing the situation, Mark positioned himself on the other side of Fontaine while Faith put her arm around Kat and drew her away from the men.
“This jackass giving you a problem?” Mark asked his partner in a deceptively low voice.
“Not me. Kat.”
“His name is Brent Fontaine,” Kat finally got the words out, both terrified and humiliated by the whole situation. She’d hoped to be able to tell this to Mike in the privacy of their room, not blurt it out this way in front of Mark and Faith. “I-I…dated him for a while.”
She saw Brent open his mouth to try to comment but Mike pressed more firmly against the man’s windpipe. She was grateful for Faith’s arm around her and the woman’s obvious support.
“Can you tell us about it?” she asked Kat in a soft voice. Kat swallowed hard, tightening her fists in her pockets even more. God, how did she get herself into things like this?
“Mike, I…”
“It’s okay, Kat.” Mike’s voice was quiet, in contrast to the obvious anger tightening his body. “It’s my fault too. Just get it out so we can decide what to do with this sack of shit.”
“I met him at a party in Tampa after Mike and I…after we…that is… He was very charming and persistent. I…went out with him for a while, trying to forget…” She stopped.
“Don’t worry about me, kitten,” Mike said. “I know right where you were at. Go on.”
“But after a while I felt suffocated. He insisted I stop seeing my friends, spend all my free time with him. We went places he chose, did things he wanted to do.” She dropped her head. “Yes, I slept with him and I’m not very proud of it. I was just, you know, vulnerable.”
Faith gave her an encouraging squeeze.
“Then I woke up one morning and discovered I was letting him destroy me. I wrote a note telling him not to call me anymore, left his condo, went home and took a shower that lasted until the hot water ran out.” She sighed. “I was supposed to meet him, and leaving him with his bare face hanging out in front of his friends ignited his short fuse. I guess he just doesn’t want to take no for an answer. Mike, I’m so sorry. So, so sorry.”
“Nothing to be sorry about,” he told her. “The whole thing was my mess, not yours.”
“Nobody walks out on me,” Fontaine croaked. “I swore I’d make her pay and I intend to. You people don’t know what you’re involved with here.”
Mike pressed harder on Fontaine’s windpipe. “What part of shut up don’t you understand? Mark, why don’t you call our friend Detective Wagner and tell him we have some trash for him to take out.”
“Just a minute here,” Fontaine gargled. “Do you know who you’re dealing with?”
“Yeah,” Mike snarled. “A very undesirable person.”
Katherine was forcing herself to take deep breaths to steady herself but she couldn’t seem to stop her body from trembling. “Brent, I have to know. Did you follow me here?”
“Follow you?” He was having a hard time getting the words out with Mike’s arm still threatening to crush his windpipe. “Don’t flatter yourself. But Fate delivered you to me just as it was meant to be. You should have answered my phone calls.”
“That’s it.” Mike pressed his arm harder and Fontaine’s face turned purple.
“Mike.” Kat broke away from Faith and tugged at Mike’s arm. “Stop. He’s not worth it.”
“Wagner’s on the way,” Mark said, snapping his phone shut. “He’s coming himself. He asked me if we thought this asshole is involved in our other situation.”
Kat watched Brent’s face fade from purple to pasty white at the announcement that the police were coming.
“Wait a minute. Just wait a minute.” As Mike loosened his arm slightly, Fontaine dragged air into his lungs. He was still pinned to the wall but he was able to breathe better. “When the police get here, you’ll be sorry you called them. This is between Katherine and me. Who the hell are you people anyway? I’ll sue you for every dime you’ve got.”
“Oh I don’t think so,” Mark drawled. “Who we are is people you don’t want to tangle with.” He grabbed a sheet of plain paper from one of the printers and wrote in big letters Out of Order. Tearing a strip off the scotch tape holder on the counter, he opened the door and taped the sign to the outside. “Okay, Mike. Sit him down in that chair over there. And you, Fontaine, don’t move if you want to live another minute.”
Brent was deposited in the chair, still babbling, and pushed into a corner, Mark standing next to him. Mike grabbed Kat and pulled her close to him, wrapping his arms tightly around her. His lips brushed her hair and he made soothing noises to her.
“It’s all right, kitten. It’s all taken care of.”
She still couldn’t stop trembling. “Mike, I
’m so ashamed and embarrassed…”
“Hey, hey, hey.” He pulled his head back and brushed his lips against hers. “If I hadn’t taken off the way I did none of this would have happened. Blame me but not yourself. Okay?”
“Do you really think he has anything to do with…what’s happening?”
“I don’t know who you men think you are,” Fontaine croaked from the corner, “but you’re going to be sorry you ever met me.”
Kat turned from the cradle of Mike’s arms and looked at him. “No sorrier than I am at having met you,” she told him.
“I think we already told you to shut up,” Mark said in a deceptively casual voice. “You should take that advice. Now sit there and don’t move.”
Kat was glad that Mike had subdued Brent to the point where he could do little else. Otherwise he would have been charging them like a raging bull. This was not a man who took anything like this lightly. His pride and his ego were more important to him than anything. She’d discovered that much too late.
The knock on the door startled all of them. Mark pulled his gun from the small of his back and held it at his side as he called, “Who’s there?”
“Detective Wagner. Someone in there call for trash pickup?”
Brent Fontaine’s eyes had bugged out at the sight of the gun. As soon as Wagner was inside the room, he said, “Are you from the police? Arrest these men! They attacked me.”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Don’t worry. We’ll sort it out.” He looked at Mark. “So what’s the deal here?”
“I think I can help you there.” As concisely as possible, Mike explained the situation, never taking his arms from around Kat.
“A stalker, huh?” Wagner gave Fontaine a nasty look. “My wife had a stalker once. I have a very special place in hell for men like that.” He looked at Mark again. “You think he has anything to do with the kidnapping?”
“Kidnapping!” Fontaine tried to push himself up from the chair. Katherine saw his face turn pale. “Now just a damn minute here. I don’t know anything about a kidnapping. I just wanted to teach this bitch a lesson.”