by Leslie North
I’m so sorry, LeLi.
Images of her the day of his birthday party filled Mark’s overtaxed mind. The way she’d tried to make the day special for him, the way she’d told him off afterward, and called him out on his bad behavior. Fuck. Mark sighed. She’d been right about him too. He did hold other people to his impossibly high standards, but not himself. Hell, just look what happened with Geneva.
Geneva.
His chest squeezed with remorse and regret.
This was his fault. All his fault. He blinked at the damaged cell phone again. It had cost him a shot at happily ever after. Now, it might very well cost him and his sister their lives too.
Think, Aleki. Think. Don’t you dare give up on me now.
LeLi’s voice echoed through his head, as clear as if she were standing before him. The thought of never seeing her smiling face again, never seeing his beloved mother, never seeing Geneva and apologizing to her, never seeing the guys again, was unbearable. Those people were everything to him—worth any pain, worth any sacrifice, worth any risk.
Mark opened his eyes and picked up the damaged cell phone, cradling it in his bandaged left hand. Jace had shown him one time how to rig one of these things in case of an emergency. As long as the inner components hadn’t been demolished, you could rewire them to send a final SOS call.
With his good right hand, he grabbed the small packet of tools he’d found earlier and pulled out a tiny screwdriver. He might be trapped in this underground shithole and temporarily down for the count, but fuck all if he would give up without a fight.
20
Geneva checked out of the Fireside Inn and finished jamming her suitcase into the back of her SUV. So far, this story idea had been a bust and it wasn’t looking like things would improve any time soon, given the way she’d left things with Mark at the hospital.
Much as she hated to throw in the towel, it was time to head home and regroup.
She tamped down the wave of sadness that rose at the idea of leaving Mark and her hopes to help Jaime behind, even temporarily. She blinked up at the waxing moon above and blinked away the unexpected sting of tears. Crying now wouldn’t help anything.
Lots of people hated driving at night, but Geneva loved it. Less traffic, cooler temps, better tunes and podcasts on the satellite radio. What wasn’t to love? She climbed into the drivers’ seat and started her engine then sat back in her seat and sighed.
Dammit. Ever since she’d left the hospital she’d had the gnawing feeling something wasn’t right. It went beyond the fact she wasn’t happy about how she’d left things with Mark—that was a whole other cesspool of emotions right there. Nope. It had more to do with his revelation about the suicides not being suicides at all.
With a sigh, Geneva flipped on her headlights then pulled out of the parking lot. As she drove through the evening lights of downtown Ortega, she couldn’t help slowing as she approached Scoops. The lights were still on inside, which meant Leila was still there. Geneva found herself signaling and turning into the small lot before she’d even realized what she was doing.
Okay, yes. Maybe things hadn’t ended well between her and Mark. Didn’t mean she couldn’t say goodbye to his sister and say thanks for the hospitality she’d shown her on her first day in town. Besides, Geneva genuinely liked Leila. Maybe they could even be friends on her next jaunt through Ortega.
She got out of the SUV and walked up to the door. It was locked, of course, given closing time was nine p.m., nearly an hour prior. She tapped on the door anyway, spotting Leila behind the ice cream counter. Mark’s sister waved and jogged over to the entrance to let her in.
“Hey, how are you?” Leila asked as Geneva walked into the now deserted restaurant.
“Good. Sorry to bother you after work.”
“No problem. I’m just cleaning up and prepping for tomorrow. Got behind after Mark’s accident earlier. I went to see him at the hospital, but he’d already checked himself out. I called his cell and left messages for him right after I got back here, but then I got busy and haven’t had time to check in on him again.” Leila gestured for Geneva to follow her back over to the ice cream counter. “Typical man. Can’t sit still for more than two seconds. You’ve seen him though, right? Is he okay?”
“Yeah.” Geneva forced a smile, her chest aching with regret. She hoped Mark was okay, hoped he was following the doctor’s orders to rest, though she knew that was probably asking the impossible. “I saw him at the hospital. He was banged up pretty bad, but he’ll live.”
“I’d offer you something to drink, but I’ve already shut everything down,” Leila said, bustling around behind the counter. “We could stop by my mom’s restaurant after this though, if you don’t have plans. She’d love to meet you.”
“I’m actually leaving tonight.”
“Where are you going?” Leila stopped and faced Geneva, an ice cream scoop in one hand.
“Back to San Francisco.”
“So soon?” Leila tossed the scoop into a gray plastic vat of soapy water and wiped her hands on a towel at her waist. “Why?”
“My sources aren’t really panning out and I need some time to readjust and regroup.”
“It’s my brother, isn’t it?” Leila put her hands on her hips and frowned. “Mark’s so damned stubborn. I told him not to blow things with you and what does he do? Blows things sky high like a frigging volcano. Talk about needing to take his own advice.”
Geneva didn’t respond. Mark wasn’t the only one who needed to walk his talk. She should’ve just told him about her stupid toes. She was an adult woman—smart, accomplished, attractive. If some guy couldn’t deal with her imperfections, then screw him.
Except those old childhood wounds were never far from the surface and those horrid taunts of the bullies still echoed in her head late at night when she was all alone. Alone without Mark. Heartsick, she swallowed hard against the lump of sadness in her throat. “Anyway, I just wanted to stop by on my way out of Ortega and say thanks for being so kind to me that first day. You were really great.”
“Aw, you’re welcome. I loved meeting you.” Leila took off her apron and headed for the cash register area. “Let’s at least exchange cell phone numbers and maybe we can get together one day when I’m off. Winter’s my slow time so…” She reached under the counter and grabbed her bag. “Plus, with this hectic place, I don’t get a chance to make many new friends. When I’m not working, I’m home with the hubs and kids.” She unzipped her purse and rooted around then scowled. “Aw, shit.”
“What’s wrong?” Geneva walked over to where she stood near the entrance.
“My phone’s missing.” Leila dumped the contents of her bag out onto the counter and sorted through it all, but no phone. “I don’t usually leave my stuff lying around out here but I was in a hurry after my wasted trip to the hospital and didn’t have time to stow it in my office like I usually do. Crap. Mark had that specially engraved for me too.”
“Here, give me your number,” Geneva said, pulling out her own phone. “I can call you. Maybe it just fell out around here somewhere.”
“Good idea.”
Leila rattled off her digits and Geneva entered them then pressed Call. Nothing.
She tried again. And again. Still no ring tone.
“Says it’s out of service.” Geneva held up her screen for Leila to see.
“Damn. I guess that’s good at least. No one can run up my bill. Serves the crooks right for stealing it in the first place.” Leila crossed her arms and sighed. “Tell me you’re not going to stop at my brother’s place on the way out of town. He doesn’t deserve that courtesy, you know.”
Geneva shrugged. “I was. Not to make amends or anything. Just to say thanks for letting me tour his facilities and interview his partners and clients. That’s all.”
“Like I said, more than he deserves, but you’re a better person than me. I love Mark, don’t get me wrong. Family is everything to us. But it’s time he learned to hold h
imself to the same high standards he uses with everyone else.”
“Right.” Guilt stabbed Geneva in the heart again. Openness, honesty, truth. Those weren’t such terrible things to ask from someone you wanted to have a relationship with, were they?
Her thoughts snagged.
Me? In a relationship with Mark?
Where she expected to have her usual recoil response from the commitment inherent in those words, Geneva found only peace this time. Peace and sorrow that she’d blown her chance at something more with Mark.
Oh, boy. Suddenly getting to the compound and seeing him seemed like the most important thing in the world.
“I need to get going.” Geneva ran for the exit.
“Sure.” Leila followed her to the door. “Tell Mark I’ll stop by and check on him in the morning.”
Geneva raced to the Brothers In Arms compound, her mind and heart reeling. What exactly should she say when she saw him? Sorry I acted like a defensive bitch earlier, but I’ve got six toes on one foot. Sorry I’m a genetic freak, but would you like to be my boyfriend?
Then again, she could always go with her favorite Jimmy Buffet line:
Let’s get drunk and screw.
Ugh. For a woman who made her living from words, none of the right ones seemed to come. By the time she pulled into the compound parking lot, she was a jumble of nerves. Maybe Mark wouldn’t even want to see her again. Maybe he hated her for not opening up to him.
Maybe…
She parked between Jace’s used Range Rover and Mark’s Jeep and got out. Mark’s house across the way was dark, but lights were still on in the office, so she headed there first. Inside, she found Jace and Vann arguing.
“What the hell do you mean you fell asleep? You had one fucking job,” Vann shouted.
“He was out cold on the couch,” Jace said, his tone and movements agitated. “What else was I supposed to do, huh? And I said I’m sorry I dozed off. What more do you want me to say?”
“Um, hey,” Geneva said tentatively from the doorway to announce her presence. “What’s going on?”
“Mark’s disappeared. That’s what’s going on.” Vann shot Jace another glare. “We need to find him fast. He could be out there injured, alone, or worse.”
“Right.” Geneva’s heart stumbled and her eyes widened. Bone deep fear for Mark shoved own insecurities aside. “His Jeep’s still here.”
“But the Humvee’s gone,” Vann said, giving her a flat look.
“Right.” Geneva rubbed her arms. “Want me to call it in to the police?”
“Already did,” Jace said. “First thing.”
“Okay.” She took a deep breath. She was a reporter. Finding things out was what she did for a living. Get at it, girl. “Where does he usually hang out? Besides here?”
“Leila’s,” Vann said and started for the door.
“Don’t bother. I just came from there and he’s not at Scoops.” Geneva tapped the toe of her boot on the wooden floor, thinking. “Leila’s phone was missing though.”
“You think it’s related?” Jace asked her.
“Could be.” Geneva walked to Mark’s desk and took a seat behind his computer. She taped a few keys to wake the screen. “Anyone know his password?”
“You’re kidding, right?” Vann snorted. “We’re in the security business, remember?”
“Right.” Most systems gave you try strikes before locking up, so Geneva started typing in words she thought Mark might choose. She started with the most obvious. Leila.
Nope.
Tried something more intrinsic to who he was. Something Samoan. Aiga.
Nada.
Dammit.
She was about to ask the guys for suggestions when both of their cell phones buzzed simultaneously. Jace pulled his out first, frowning at the screen. “This message doesn’t make any sense. Rig Man Win Cell?”
“Same here.” Vann scrunched his nose, his gaze narrowed on Geneva. “Says it’s from Leila’s phone. But you said she lost it.”
“She did. I tried calling it for her when I was at the café, but couldn’t get a ring tone.” Geneva moved in beside Vann and peered at his screen.
Rig Man Win Cell. Rig Man Win Cell.
The guys were right. It didn’t make any sense. She closed her eyes and ran through all the time she’d spent with Mark—the first day in Scoops parking lot, scaling the bank building downtown, dinner afterward, the drive to the Rigsdale Mansion.
“Rig man. Do you think it has something to do with your rappelling class?”
“Nah.” Jace wrinkled his nose. “Those were all Highway Patrol guys. Doubt any of them would want to kidnap Mark, no matter how rough he was on them.”
“Win cell, win cell,” Vann repeated over and over. “Some kind of contest?”
Geneva shook her head. “Too random. Hey, Jace. Mark always bragged about your mechanical skills. Think you can rig up one of these phones to give us more information about the coordinates this message came from?”
“I can try,” he said, stalking to the corner with his own phone in hand.
“My guess is wherever Mark is, he doesn’t have much time,” Vann said, pacing the room again. “I can’t help thinking this is tied to all the crazy shit happening lately. First the severed brake lines, then the Diesel Dome collapse…”
“The suicides that are murders. Oh, shit!” Realization dawned with sickening clarity. Geneva clutched Vann’s arm. “What if the Rigsdales are involved with those too?”
“What?” Jace asked, facing them.
“How do you know about that?” Vann asked, his scowl dark.
Geneva took a step back. “Mark told me at the hospital. He said that he’d been investigating the suicides on his own, thinking they might not be suicides at all. What if he found out something incriminating about the Rigsdales? What if they sent some of their minions to do him in once and for all?”
Jace and Vann exchanged a look.
“Makes sense,” Jace said. “Explains the first part of the message too.”
“How?” Geneva frowned.
“Rig Man. Rigsdale Mansion.”
“What about the second part?” Vann asked.
“We’ll figure it out on the way.” She grabbed Vann’s phone from his hand and hit the redial button. The line clicked then went dead. “We need to get over to the mansion now.”
Vann snatched his device back. “We need a plan first. They won’t just let us in.”
Geneva’s nervous tension boiled over into irritation. Vann seemed to have taken an instant dislike to her. Fine. He wasn’t the man she was interested in. But she sure as shit refused to let his personal issues with her get in the way of her saving the man she loved.
Loved?
Geneva swallowed hard.
Crazy as it sounded, yes, she had fallen head over heels for Mark Rogers and she sure as hell wasn’t about to lose him now.
Determined, she marched back up to Vann and stood nose to nose. Well, more like nose to chest, given his height. “Then think fast, mister, because I refuse to stand around here while Mark could be beaten, tortured or killed. He told me about his theory on the suicides. Deal with it.” Vann’s stoic expression shifted slightly toward astonishment. “Yeah, that’s right. Mark trusted me enough to share that with me today. So how about you lighten up and get over whatever the hell problem you seem to have with me, okay? We’re all on the same side here. We all want Mark back safe and sound.”
Jace chuckled. “Man, she told you.”
Vann watched her closely, a muscle ticking near his tight jaw. “You’ve been spending too much time with Leila.”
“And loving every minute of it,” Geneva winked and stood her ground.
After exhaling slow, Vann gave a short nod. “Fine. How are we going to get him out?”
“We could try a bait and switch,” Jace said, pulling out weapons from a gun cabinet across the room and handing them to Vann. “Like that time at the consulate in Kabul.”
“Nah.” Vann slammed a magazine into place in the butt of a semi-automatic, clicked on the safety, and sat it on the desk before grabbing a handgun from Jace. “Not enough time. Plus, we don’t have a camel.”
“Shit.” Jace slid his arms into a torso holster then loaded up his Desert Eagles into the holster around his waist. “I guess we just blast our way in then. You want the cops to tag along or not?”
“Wait!” Geneva said, a new idea occurring. After all, it was the reason that had brought all of them together in the first place. Seemed fitting it would save them all in the end. “I think I have a way we can get in without any firepower at all. At least not of the ballistic kind.”
“Really?” Vann frowned. “How?”
“The Rigsdales are all about PR, right? They love being in the public eye, flaunting their wealth and lifestyle. Let’s give them what they want.”
“An interview, you mean?” Jace said, his slow smile growing. “Fuck yeah!”
“More than a simple interview. A full-blown press conference. No way they won’t come outside for that. Once the house is empty then you guys can get in and get Mark.” Geneva grinned and fished out her phone from her bag. “All I have to do is call in a few favors.”
21
“Good evening, this is Marcus Diego reporting live from the mansion of Tim and Kim Rigsdale in Ortega, California. I’m here tonight to interview journalist Geneva Rios about her startling new findings regarding the recent rash of Navy SEAL suicides here in California.” Geneva smiled politely into the camera and said a silent prayer this would work. She’d wanted to be right about her hunches, she’d wanted a national headline and all that came with it, but she’d never, ever wanted any of it at the price of Mark’s life.
“Tell us, Ms. Rios, how do you believe the Rigsdales are involved in these deaths?”