by Joyce Lamb
“I thought she had a right to know. Besides, I didn’t think she’d knock me unconscious, cuff me with my own handcuffs and take off.” Moaning, she pressed the heel of her hand to the center of her forehead. “Somebody please get me some Tylenol.”
“Did she take your gun?”
“No. But she took my cell phone. A lot of good that’s going to do her.”
* * *
Bailey parked in front of Payne Kincaid’s iron gate and stared at the giant K that adorned its bars.
This was stupid. Stupid stupid stupid.
What was she going to do? Walk unarmed into the middle of who knows what?
She needed a plan. Even part of a plan.
She needed Cole. He would know what to do.
Let the feds handle it, he’d say.
But the feds had sent her brother into almost certain death. Ramsey had no use for James. No use at all. Wearing a wire wasn’t going to protect him unless the feds were standing right outside the door, which of course, they weren’t.
They didn’t even seem to be in the neighborhood. She had looked for unobtrusive vans parked along the quiet, palm tree-lined streets and seen none. That didn’t mean they weren’t parked somewhere else nearby, but they certainly weren’t anywhere near the gate, the only way onto Payne’s property.
The cell phone in the passenger seat rang, startling her.
She picked it up and read the display. It was Cole. Oh, thank God. She answered the call, but before she could say anything, he asked, “Where are you?”
“I’m outside Payne’s gate. Ramsey’s going to kill James.” She curled the fingers of her left hand around the steering wheel. Hang on, hang on.
“I’m on my way, Bailey. Five minutes. Can you wait for five minutes?”
She fought back tears of frustration, fear. Ramsey could be killing James right this second. Maybe he already had. “I don’t know what to do.”
“Wait for me. Please.” His voice broke. “I’ll be there in five minutes, less.”
“There’s nobody around, Cole. Where’s the FBI? My brother is inside, and there’s nobody here.”
“Listen to me. There are federal agents placed around the perimeter of the grounds. There’s one by the gate, but he’s not going to show himself unless he has to.”
“Just one?”
“The action is going on at the house, so that’s where their focus is. Now tell me you’ll wait for me.”
A calm settled over her. Cole would be there soon, and they could figure out what to do together. “Okay. I’ll wait.”
“Are you parked in front of the gate?”
“Yes.”
“You need to move the car so that the security cameras don’t broadcast your picture to whoever might be looking at monitors inside the house.”
“All right.” She started the car and shifted into reverse, her shaking hands making it a challenge to hit the right gear.
“I’m almost there, honey. Just hang on.”
“Is Kathleen okay?”
“She’s fine. Pissed as hell.”
“She slipped and fell. I had to make a split-second decision.”
“I understand. Are you away from the gate?”
“I’m backing up.”
“Drive back the way you came. I’m in the neighborhood. Really close. I’ll meet you halfway.”
“Okay.”
“I love you. God, I love you. You scared the living hell out of me.”
She laughed shakily. Her whole body trembled, as if shock were setting in, yet a warm flush spread through her. “Wow, you love me?”
“Yeah, I do. Fine time to tell you, huh?”
“I love you, too, Cole. I …” She trailed off, choking on the emotion clogging her throat.
“It’s okay, Bailey. Just hold on, okay? We’re almost there.”
“Okay, I—” She broke off, hitting the brakes as she caught a glimpse of movement in the rearview mirror, heard someone shouting.
“What’s wrong?” Cole asked.
“I don’t know. I thought I saw—”
The driver-side window shattered.
A pair of hands reached in and grabbed her by the front of the shirt and hauled her out through the broken window. She cried out, letting go of the phone and flailing blindly. One of her fists struck flesh, and she heard a grunt. Then something slammed viciously into her temple, and lights exploded in her eyes. She started to fall, a huge black wave threatening to take her under.
“Not so fast,” a voice growled as strong hands levered her up and back against the side of the car and gave her a firm shake.
She blinked against the encroaching darkness, fought it with everything she had. As her vision began to clear, Dixon Ramsey got in her face. “Well, lookee who dropped by.”
* * *
“Bailey!” Cole shouted.
He’d heard a crash and was struggling to decipher what had caused it. Had another car collided with hers? Had she backed into something?
A thin cry of pain. Bailey’s voice.
“Bailey! Answer me!”
He took the final turn too fast and hit the brakes, his headlights shining on Kathleen’s car and the son of a bitch who had Bailey up against the side of it.
Cole leapt out of the SUV, his legs weak with fear, his mind a blur of white noise.
He noticed the body on the ground near the left rear bumper of Kathleen’s car. Dark clothing, “FBI” emblazoned on the front of a cap. The lone agent who’d been watching the gate.
The man holding Bailey turned, his arm clamped around her waist, trapping her arms at her sides, using her as a shield.
When she saw Cole, her already frantic struggles went wild. “No!”
“Hold still,” her captor said, his voice quiet and calm as he pressed a silencer-equipped gun to her temple.
Everything inside Cole went dead still. “You don’t have to do that. Just let her go.”
The man rolled his eyes. “Right. I let her go, and I’m dead.” He gestured with the gun at the agent on the ground. “Do me a favor and get that guy’s headset.”
Cole did as he said without argument. Kneeling at the agent’s side, he looked him over. Blood oozed out of a wound in his shoulder. His eyes fluttered.
“Where’s your gun?” Cole asked, his voice low as he worked the communication device out of the man’s ear.
Bailey’s captor said, “His gun went flying when I shot him. Now get back over here or your girlfriend’s toast.”
Cole rose, the headset in hand. As he returned, he met Bailey’s eyes, read her terror, and vowed to rip this guy’s head off at the first opportunity. That was when he noticed the blood trickling down the side of her face. His gut twisted. She was hurt.
“Yo, asshole. I’m over here.”
Cole shifted his gaze to the face of the soon-to-be-dead thug and held up the headset.
“Put it on.”
Cole obeyed.
“Now tell the yahoos watching that this is how it’s going to work.”
Chapter 50
James paced in front of Kincaid, his nerves growing tauter, the hand that held the gun sweatier, the longer Ramsey was gone. What the hell was going on?
“You’re making me dizzy, James.”
He glanced at Kincaid, who sat on the sofa, his hands secured in front of him with a black zip tie, calm as could be. James had resisted binding the man’s hands, but Ramsey had insisted, saying they needed to keep control of him until they’d laid out how everything would work. It still bothered him that Ramsey had chosen here, Kincaid’s home, to tell him he was being ousted. Wouldn’t it have made more sense to do it someplace neutral, where the guy wouldn’t have the home-court advantage?
“You’re the assistant on this one, kid,” Ramsey had said. “I call the shots here, and after all is said and done, you can wallow in the spoils.”
James figured Ramsey’s idea of wallowing in the spoils involved lots of James’ blood and guts. He tried to ima
gine when and where Ramsey planned to kill him. After Kincaid left town, most likely. While murdering Kincaid would have caused a huge stir, the death of a screw-up like James probably wouldn’t warrant a passing mention on the evening news.
James assured himself that the feds would have what they needed to take down Kincaid and Ramsey before Ramsey got to the part of his plan that involved eliminating his one remaining threat. More than anything, James wanted to see Austin grow into a better man than he had become.
Pacing, he wondered what the urgent cell phone call had been about – and who’d made it – just before Ramsey had taken off.
“Whatever he’s paying you, I’ll triple it.”
James focused on Kincaid, almost felt sorry for him. The guy had no idea how bad it was going to get. He wasn’t just being run out of town. He would be taking the first exit ramp to prison, thanks to James’ testimony and the high-tech buttons on his shirt that were recording every word and image he saw and heard.
“I’m surprised at you, James. I always thought you were several rungs above the average thug.”
James didn’t respond.
“I had big plans for you, you know. I saw in you the potential to be my business partner.”
“So sorry it didn’t work out.”
“You’re a lot like your father.”
James snorted. “Right.”
“You really are. Just like everyone else in this town, he thought I was an extremely successful art dealer. I never let him in on what I really do. You know why?”
“If he’d known, he wouldn’t have had anything to do with you.”
“Exactly.” Kincaid settled back against the sofa cushions, as if they were enjoying a brandy and a chat. “I admired Elliott. He was a good man, and he raised his kids right. He would be disappointed in you right now, James. Like I am.”
“Shut up.” James paced toward the door through which Ramsey had left. Where the hell was he?
“What’s Ramsey offering that could be more enticing than watching your son grow up?”
James whirled on him. “You don’t know anything. Now shut the hell up.”
“Ah, we have a guest.”
James turned back toward the door and froze as Cole Goodman walked in. “What are you—” He broke off when he saw Bailey.
Ramsey was right behind her, his hand tangled in her hair, a gun pointed at the back of her head.
“Drop your weapon, James,” Ramsey said. “I can put a bullet in her before you can think ‘shit.’ “
James dropped it.
* * *
Seeing her brother alive weakened Bailey’s knees, and she stumbled. Ramsey tightened his hand in her hair, and she couldn’t squelch a gasp of pain.
Ramsey shifted his gun from her to Cole, whose back had stiffened. “If you turn around, hero, she’s dead.”
Bailey forced strength into her legs and prayed she wouldn’t pass out no matter how much her head hurt. Something warm trickled into her eye, and she swiped at it, shocked when her fingers came away red with blood. More blood splattered on Payne’s pristine tile floor. Her vision wavered and blurred, and she fought against nausea.
Ramsey released her hair and pushed her forward, gesturing at Cole. “Both of you, get on the couch next to the clueless old guy.”
Bailey’s gaze fell on Payne as she walked to the dark brown leather sofa. The hands of the man she’d considered her second father were secured and resting in his lap. He watched her, his forehead creased with worry. She’d expected to feel a punch of rage when she saw him. But in the great card game of life, trepidation and a concussion must have trumped rage, because she felt nothing.
As she sat next to Payne, Cole settled beside her. The minimalist décor of Payne’s home—the spotlighted paintings on the walls, the high ceilings, the onyx sculpture of the panther, the sleek but sparse furnishings designed to keep attention on the art—looked foreign to her, yet she had practically grown up here.
Suddenly freezing cold, she leaned against Cole. He drew her close and wrapped a warm arm around her. “Just hang on,” he murmured.
“Why is she bleeding?” James demanded, alarmed.
Ramsey, his bald head gleaming with sweat, didn’t respond as he walked up to James. “Open your shirt.”
James narrowed his eyes. “I asked you what you did to my sister.”
“I’m going to blow her head off if you don’t do as I say. Now open your shirt.”
Glowering, James unbuttoned his shirt and opened it. His chest was bare.
“Where’s the wire?” Ramsey asked.
“What wire?”
Ramsey struck him with the butt of his gun, and James went down on his hands and knees.
Bailey would have bolted up, but Cole tightened his hold, keeping her firmly in place beside him.
“Just sit tight, Bailey,” Payne said. “He’ll make a mistake. Stupid people always do.”
“Bite me,” she said without glancing at him.
Ramsey chuckled. “Can you feel the love in this room? It’s making me all tingly.” Reaching down, he grabbed a handful of James’ shirt. “Up and at ‘em, loser.”
James rose, shaking his head as if to clear it. His eye was already swelling where Ramsey had hit him.
“Now don’t play coy with me, boy,” Ramsey said. “You, me and the old fool are the only ones who knew about this little gathering, and I highly doubt Kincaid would sic the feds on his own house.” He looked James over, his light blue eyes narrowed. “If I had to hazard a guess, the whole ‘wearing a wire’ for the feds business is passé in these days of high-tech wireless shit. So where’s the equipment?”
James glared at him. “You heard my sister. She said ‘bite me.’ “
Ramsey cocked his pistol and aimed it between James’ eyes. “Way I heard it, she wasn’t directing her sassy crap at me. Now tell me how you’re wired or your brain matter is going to decorate the artwork on the wall.”
James pressed his lips together.
Bailey couldn’t stand it. Being defiant now could get him dead. “Tell him, Jamie.”
Ramsey smiled. “Hear that? She told you to tell me, Jamie. And we all know how good you are at doing what you’re told.”
“I wouldn’t say that’s necessarily the case,” Payne said, his tone dry.
Ramsey barked out a laugh. “The old guy still has a sense of humor even though he knows it’s over for him.”
“Seems to me it’s over for you, too, Mr. Ramsey,” Payne said. “How do you think you’re going to get out of here? Shoot your way out?”
“I’ve got, let’s see, one, two, three, four … four hostages. And I figure I only really need one.”
“My security team will take you down.”
“Well, you see, that’s where you’re wrong. Because they’re my security team now. A damned competent bunch, too. Who do you think’s keeping the feds from busting down the door? And who do you think tipped me off that your precious little Bailey was at the front gate?”
“You traitorous son of a bitch,” Payne said.
“You should talk,” Bailey said.
Ramsey grinned. “Oh, goody, here we go.”
Payne looked at her, his expression troubled. “You can’t imagine how much I regret what has happened.”
“I loved you. Trusted you. You were like a father to me.”
“I never did anything to purposely hurt you. In fact, I’ve done much to protect you. Tell her, James.”
James stayed silent.
“We wouldn’t be here now if you hadn’t pulled my brother into your world.”
“She’s got you there, boss,” Ramsey said.
“Shut up,” Payne snapped.
“Why?” Bailey asked, as if Ramsey hadn’t spoken. “Why did you do it?”
Payne smiled sadly. “Believe it or not, this all started because your father asked me for a favor. He asked me to give James a job, so I did.”
“You didn’t have to give him a job doin
g something illegal.”
“I didn’t. He stumbled into the illegal part of my business by accident.”
“And then … what? You threw money at him to keep him quiet?”
“Bailey, honey, you’d be shocked what people will do for a little money. Everything in this world is about money.”
“Not everything. The people you love matter more than money, and you’re a small, pathetic man for not knowing that.”
Ramsey winked at James. “I bet you wish you’d known that a couple of years ago, huh, loser?”
She cut her gaze to Ramsey. “Go to hell.”
Ramsey grabbed his chest as if she’d wounded him, then shook his head. “You know what strikes me here? The chick is the only one with any balls. You,” he gestured at Payne with the gun, “you have no stomach for the job. Can’t stand to get your hands dirty, so you send guys like me to do it. If you had a spine, this pitiful asshole”—he indicated James—”would be dead and buried and out of your perfect hair for good. But, no, you couldn’t stand to have him killed. His family means something to you and they’ve already been through so much, blah, blah, blah. He killed your best buddy. You should have put him down then. It’s disgusting. And you know what? Now I have to kill him. Because I knew the first chance he got, he’d go running to the feds with stories of ‘hey, guys, I know how you can bust a bunch of smugglers.’ Looks like he already did that, doesn’t it? Think of all the trouble he could have saved himself if he’d had the balls to do that when the opportunity first presented itself five years ago.”
Ramsey waved the gun in the air. “Man, I had a plan. A perfect freaking plan. I was going to take care of both of you useless bastards at the same time. See, this guy,” he pointed at Payne, “has been pissed at this guy,” he pointed at James, “for quite a few years now.” He grinned at Bailey. “Have you noticed that? They’ve hated each other ever since your father kicked the bucket in that wreck.”
Bailey was struggling to keep up, trying to focus on what he was saying and concentrating on not throwing up or toppling into the very deep, dark hole that was yawning open before her.