“Fine,” she said, giving him a defiant look. “Let’s wake Quentin up. But you better be ready to tell him it was your great idea.”
Rex tugged on her arm, urging her down the hall.
“You can let me go,” she said.
“I don’t think so.”
He marched her up the stairs and down the hall to the master bedroom.
He banged on the door. “Quentin?”
Annabelle started to cry.
“Shhh,” Kate said automatically. But she was secretly cheering for the baby’s lungs.
The door flung open, and Quentin appeared. “What the hell is going on out here?”
“Kate is taking Annabelle,” Rex said.
“For a drive,” Kate quickly put in.
“With Brody.” Rex frowned.
“What the hell time is it?” Quentin bellowed.
Annabelle cried louder.
There was a sudden commotion on the first floor. There were loud shouts and running feet. It took Kate a second for the words to make sense.
“FBI! FBI! Everybody out where we can see you!”
Before she could react, Rex shoved her through the bedroom door and locked it behind them.
“What are you doing?” she demanded. She looked to Quentin, hoping against hope he would intervene. Surely he cared about the safety of his own daughter.
Then Rex pulled a gun from beneath his shirt and trained it on her. She automatically turned to protect Annabelle.
“What on earth is going on?” Her voice quavered with fear.
“You tell me,” Quentin shouted.
“I don’t know.” Kate was becoming terrified.
Where was Brody? Was he going to be able to help her?
“Start talking,” Rex growled.
“I don’t know what’s going on,” Kate cried. “Put down the gun. You might hurt Annabelle.”
“Annabelle is the least of your worries,” Rex said.
Kate held the baby closer to her chest.
Annabelle kept crying.
“She knows,” Rex said to Quentin.
“I don’t know anything,” Kate said.
Somebody banged loudly on the bedroom door. “FBI. Everybody out. Hands in the air.”
“We have a baby in here,” Rex shouted back.
The door burst open, and two armed men entered the room.
Rex grabbed Kate and pushed the gun to her chest.
“Let Annabelle go,” Kate pleaded. “Just let me put her down on the bed.”
“No,” Rex growled.
“Quentin,” Kate pleaded. “She’s your daughter. Please don’t let her get hurt.”
Quentin looked like he was making up his mind.
“Quentin!” She couldn’t believe he was hesitating.
“Quiet, ma’am,” one of the officers ordered sharply.
Kate’s panic was rising. She couldn’t think straight. She didn’t know what to do. She couldn’t just stand here with Annabelle’s life in danger.
“Take me,” she told Rex. “You don’t need Annabelle.”
“Shut her up,” Quentin demanded.
“I can give her the bottle,” Kate said. “Let me put her on the bed. She can have the bottle. Then she’ll keep quiet.”
“Quiet, ma’am,” the officer ordered again.
Kate wasn’t inclined to listen to him. He wasn’t likely to shoot her. Rex just might.
“We’re walking out of here,” Rex spat.
“We can’t let you do that,” the officer said.
“You can’t stop me. Come on, Quentin.”
“We have a search warrant for the premises,” the officer said. “Are you Quentin Roo?”
“And we have hostages.” Rex sneered at the man.
“Let them go,” the other officer said.
Kate knew she was probably losing it, but she couldn’t help but think it was about time they made that suggestion. Shouldn’t that have been the first thing they said? Please let go of the nice hostages?
Rex started to push her toward the door.
“No closer,” the officer ordered.
Rex ignored him.
Quentin moved in. He reached for Annabelle.
“No,” Kate moaned, clasping the baby tighter.
“Give her to me,” Quentin said.
“No. You can’t.”
“She’s my daughter.” He pulled hard, and Kate was terrified.
A split second later, Annabelle was in Quentin’s arms. Rex had Kate held tight, and they were moving toward the door.
She stared at the officers. Surely, they wouldn’t let them past. They’d do something, disarm Rex or shoot him or something.
“Out of the way,” Rex shouted. “Get back!”
Annabelle’s cries reached a new decibel.
“Shut up,” Quentin muttered to the baby.
When the FBI agents stepped aside, Kate’s terror rose to a whole new level.
Rex forced her down the stairs. The four made their way through the entry hall and out the front door.
There, they were surrounded by a dozen armed officers.
“Give yourselves up,” someone shouted over a megaphone. “There’s nowhere to go.”
“What do we do?” Quentin asked Rex.
“Let us go,” Kate said.
“Shut up,” Rex demanded. “We’ll take your car,” he said to Quentin.
“There’s no way out,” the megaphone man said.
“They’ve blocked the driveway,” Quentin said.
“We’ve got hostages,” Rex called out and kept walking.
Suddenly, Brody was standing in front of them. “Release them.”
“I should have known,” Rex said. “There was always something off about you. Didn’t I tell you that?” he asked Quentin. “FBI?” he asked Brody.
“No,” Brody said. “But give me Annabelle and let Kate go.”
“Not a chance.”
“The only way out of here is through me.”
“My pleasure.”
“That’s murder,” Brody said calmly. “You want to be arrested for corporate espionage or murder. You want a white-collar prison or the death penalty?” He looked to Quentin. “You’ll be charged, too.”
“Big talk,” Rex sputtered.
Brody didn’t move a muscle. “I’m not bluffing. Let her go, or shoot me. It’s one or the other.”
Rex aimed his gun at Brody.
“Brody, no.” Kate was overcome with sheer, blind panic.
She saw Rex’s face, and she knew in her soul that he was going to shoot Brody. Brody was going to die right here on the front steps.
Before she could even think about it, she was pushing Rex with all her might. A shot rang out. Brody lunged forward. He grabbed Annabelle from Quentin’s arms.
“Down,” he screamed at Kate.
The world went into slow motion. She looked straight in his eyes, and did exactly as he asked. She dropped down, lying flat on her stomach while Brody covered Annabelle with his body.
More shots echoed.
She covered her ears, and squeezed her eyes shut.
“Kate.” It was Brody’s voice. His hand touched hers. “Kate.”
She blinked to find him lying beside her, Annabelle still crying in his arms.
“I have her bottle,” she said.
“Are you all right?” he asked.
She nodded. She was sore, but she didn’t think she was injured. “Is it over?”
“It’s over.”
“Are they...” She swallowed, looking around at the chaos. She couldn’t finish the sentence.
“Don’t worry
about it right now. Don’t look back. Don’t look at anything.” He led her up the front steps. “Just focus on the house, Kate. And hand me the bottle.”
Eleven
The hotel had brought a crib up to Brody’s suite, and Annabelle was now sound asleep. It had been a long day. He and Kate had given statements to the FBI, who had picked Kozak up at the airport. There they’d also arrested Bert and Ernie who’d come to meet him.
Will was now working with the FBI IT experts, determining the extent of the theft from Shetland Technologies and whether or not they’d managed to use the cryptography enabled steganography to commit any other crimes.
Brody wanted nothing more than to be here with Kate and Annabelle. He carried two snifters of cognac to the sofa where she was curled up.
“Kate, you holding up okay?” he asked, handing one to her.
She didn’t answer, and she didn’t take the drink, so he set it down on the coffee table in front of her.
“It may take a while,” he said, sitting down beside her.
She was silent for a moment more. “I can’t believe it’s over.”
“It’s over.”
“He was going to shoot you.”
“I don’t think so.”
Her voice rose. “Did you see his expression, his eyes? I saw it in his eyes, Brody. Rex was going to shoot you point-blank.”
Brody leaned across her knee to pick up the glass. This time when he handed it to her, she took it.
“It’s over,” he repeated with finality, and he clinked his snifter to hers.
She stared into space.
“You should drink now,” he told her.
She took a sip. “You just stood there, a great big target only five feet away. You wouldn’t move.”
“I wasn’t about to let him take you and Annabelle.”
“But he had a gun.” She waved the glass. “The cops. They were smart. They let him by. But you... You...”
“The cops don’t know you the way I do.”
She gave him a quizzical look, but he wasn’t ready to elaborate on that statement.
He swallowed some of his cognac. It tasted good going down. “You were smart to push him off balance.”
“I had to do something. He was going to kill you, Brody. I’m positive of that, and there’s nothing you can say to change my mind.”
“Okay. He was going to kill me.”
For some reason, that seemed to satisfy her. She turned on the sofa, coming up on her knees. “You saved my life. You saved Annabelle’s life.”
“Listen, we can talk about this as long as you like, or as long as you need to in order to feel better. But I did what I had to do, and so did you, and everybody is okay. Well, everybody that counts, anyway.”
She paused. But then her shoulders dropped, and the intensity went out of her expression.
“We can stop talking about it now,” she said.
He was dying to touch her, so he smoothed back her hair. “We’ve got the emergency custody hearing tomorrow afternoon.”
She trapped his hand and kissed his palm. “Thanks to you.”
He set down his glass. “It was nothing. You deserve Annabelle, and Annabelle deserves you. Quentin is gone from her life.”
Kate’s hand started to shake, and Brody took her glass, setting it next to his on the table.
“I can’t believe he’s dead,” she said in a quiet voice.
“It’s sad. It didn’t have to happen like that.”
She nodded. “I hope Annabelle won’t have any memories of what had happened.”
“She won’t. She’s so young.”
“I shouldn’t repeat it now that Rex is dead, but I really didn’t like that man.”
Brody leaned in, pulled her forward and kissed the top of her head. “You must be tired.”
“I’m numb.”
“Let’s go to bed.” He realized he was sounding and acting presumptuous. “I mean, I can convert the sofa and sleep out here, if you’d rather.”
She tipped her head to look up at him, giving a ghost of a smile. “We can share the bed. I’d like to share the bed.”
“Good.” He wasn’t near ready to let her go.
He rose and held out his hand to her, walking her into the bedroom where he pulled back the quilt. They both took off their clothes and climbed in.
He drew her into his arms, and she was asleep in moments.
He gazed at her pink cheeks, her cute little nose and the dark eyelashes resting against her skin. He touched her crazy purple hair and smiled. She’d done that for Annabelle, for a niece she’d never even met. She’d chopped off her hair and walked boldly into Quentin Roo’s stronghold and took him on.
With all the dysfunctionality in her upbringing, with her estrangement from her sister, she’d still stepped up.
He couldn’t help comparing Kate’s family to his own. The Calders weren’t as close as some, and they’d had their share of scandal and betrayal in past generations, but he liked to think he’d do anything for his brother, Blane.
The family was small right now. His father had only one sibling. A sister, and she’d died in a horseback riding accident in her twenties. She hadn’t married and had no children.
Brody’s father was late to marry, and his grandparents had passed away a few years back. Brody and his brother, Blane, were now the future of the Calder dynasty. They were expected to marry and produce heirs, and that was fine with Brody.
He’d always looked forward to children. He’d decided a long time ago to have as many as he could. But having children meant finding a woman willing to take him on.
Up to now, he hadn’t found the time to focus on that facet of his life. He’d dated, and there was no shortage of women with a romantic notion of what it meant to marry into the Calder family. Some of them seemed like wonderful people. But it wasn’t just a matter of compatibility. It was no small thing for anyone to take on the demands of joining the nobility.
As the second son, his social obligations were far less intense than his brother’s. But given Blane’s health problems, Brody expected to spend a considerable amount of time supporting Blane. His future wife would have to be prepared for the reality of that life.
Aside from the complications of his family, the past few years had been focused on business. If he couldn’t save the family fortune, there’d be nothing to pass on to any children of his or of Blane’s.
He realized he ought to share the good news. He calculated the time zone difference, and guessed Blane would be up and around.
He dialed the number and let it ring.
He was about to give up when the line connected.
“Brody?” To his surprise, it was his mother’s crisp voice.
“Hello, Mother.” He kept his voice low so he wouldn’t disturb Kate. He couldn’t help but feel disappointed. He’d wanted Blane to be the first to hear the news.
“Blane can’t talk right now, Brody.” She seemed annoyed about something.
“Are you sure?” Brody was certain Blane would want to interrupt anything he might be doing for this. But he didn’t want to tell his mother it was important, because she’d ask to hear the news herself.
“Give me the phone.” Blane’s voice was faint in the background.
“Is he with you?” Brody was surprised his mother would scoop Blane’s phone right from under his nose. That was high-handed even for her.
“He can’t talk,” his mother said in her most officious countess voice.
“Why not?”
“He’s with the doctor.”
Brody went on alert, sitting up straight, remembering his last conversation with Blane. “What doctor? Where are you?”
“We’re at the hospital.”
&n
bsp; “Is it the cough?”
Kate blinked her eyes open.
“Sorry,” he mouthed to her, regretting waking her.
“It’s his lungs,” said his mother. “They’re doing tests.”
There was coughing in the background.
“What kind of tests?” asked Brody, his attention turning fully to the phone call.
“We’ll know more when they’re done. It might be congestion, or there might be deterioration.”
“Deterioration of his lungs?” Brody’s worry was now in full force.
“Give me the—” Blane’s voice turned to coughing again.
Brody met Kate’s eyes.
“I’ll call you back,” his mother said.
“But—”
“They say we’ll know more later tonight,” she said.
“Call me as soon as you know anything at all.”
“I will. But since you’re not here...”
Guilt spiked in Brody. “What I’m doing here is important, Mother.”
“Maybe so.”
Blane spoke in the background again. “Mother, don’t.”
“As you say,” she said to Brody.
“Call me,” he reminded her.
“Fine.”
The conversation ended.
Kate moved into a sitting position “Who was that?”
“My mother.”
“Something’s wrong.” It wasn’t a question.
“My brother, Blane,” said Brody, staring at his phone.
“Is he ill?”
“Yes. He has a condition called Newis Bar Syndrome. It’s a rare neuromuscular disease.”
She dipped her head to his shoulder and gave him a gentle kiss. “I’m so sorry to hear that.”
“He may have developed a complication.”
“Oh, Brody.”
“Deterioration of his lungs.” Brody could barely say it out loud. It sounded very serious, even critical.
His brother couldn’t be critically ill. Blane had an important future. He had to inherit the earldom. He had to get married, have children, produce the new viscount and other heirs.
Kate shifted next to Brody, wrapping her hand around his arm and leaning in close. “Is there anything I can do?”
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