Finding Leigh: Dark Horse Inc. Book 3

by Amy J. Hawthorn

  With a swipe of his finger, he brought another map onscreen. Cara was in route. With another swipe of his finger, he switched to another map and confirmed she was on the move in a rental car, following Marcus and Wendell. As he watched, Cara’s car slowed and stopped in an unexpected location. She was just a few hundred yards short of a rest stop on the edge of the highway. The second blip on the map indicated that Marcus’s car had pulled in and parked.

  Shit.

  The screen of his phone went black for a split second, then displayed an incoming call. Frustration and confusion battled for headspace as he looked at the odd number. When he’d first set up the Do Not Disturb function in his custom phone design, he’d blocked all incoming calls except for a very select few. He couldn’t have phone calls breaking his concentration. On the way to dismiss the call, he paused.

  Recognition slammed home. It was Addie’s number for the cell he’d left her back at that shack she’d lived in. Damn, it seemed like ages ago, but hadn’t been much more than what, a couple of months? He remembered making her number one of only three contacts able to reach him at all times. Trent, Pete, and Addie. He’d need to add Leigh’s soon.

  Impatient and a little worried, he answered. “Hey, Addie. What’s going on?” She was a smart kid. He figured she would have understood his need for focus.

  “I know you’re busy, but I have a problem. A big problem.”

  “Sweetheart, can Leigh or Kate help you with it? I’m a little busy.” Even now, he itched to flip back to the map displaying Cara’s still car.

  “Well, that’s my problem. I’m okay, but Leigh’s gone.” Something in her voice got his attention, even when he knew she had to be mistaken. Leigh wouldn’t have left Addie or the farm.

  “Are you sure? Maybe she’s in the shower or walked down to see Kate? Kylie could have dragged her away to look at something. Kylie is a pro at stealing people.” Anxiety scratched at his nape, even as he tried to reassure her.

  “I’m sure. Kate’s in the kitchen with Kylie and Sandy. They’re making a big dinner for everyone. Leigh told me she had a headache. She was going to take some medicine and needed to lay down for a nap. I tried to lay down and rest, too. I must have fallen asleep. When I woke up, she was gone. She’s not in our room or bathroom. Her purse isn’t where she left it, either.”

  His anxiety evolved into fear, but Leigh knew how important it was for him to have no distractions. His mind raced. “Have you asked Kate or Sandy if they’ve seen her?”

  “Not yet. Rick, it was the phone call that came in that scares me most. She seemed real scared for a minute. She got mad, like way mad. And then she pretended everything was okay, but I knew she was lying. She never lies to me.” Her quiet words hit him with the force of a ten-ton asteroid.

  “Phone call? When did she get that? What did she say? Repeat everything you can remember.”

  As Addie relayed what she could of the call, his fear transformed into terror. “Sweetheart, you did the right thing by calling me, but I’ve got to get off here and see what I can find out.”

  His focus on the maps blown, he closed his eyes and concentrated on the small voice coming through the phone. This little girl and the woman who’d taken her in held his heart, his everything, in their intertwined hands. “Good. I know she’s worried about me being scared and wouldn’t leave me alone here, even with people she likes. I know her. She wouldn’t do that to me.” Her little words strengthened into ones of hard won confidence. “She…I think she loves me. I know she wouldn’t leave me alone when I’m scared. What if he gets her? You have to find her.”

  Cara’s voice sounded in his other ear, breaking into their conversation. “Shit, boss?”

  “Hang on, Mayhem.” He continued to focus on Addie. “I’ll find her.”

  “Promise?”

  “I promise. I won’t come home until I get her back.”

  “He’s in big trouble, isn’t he?” Rick thought he might have heard a hint of a smile in his girl’s voice.

  Even though she couldn’t see it, he sent her one of his own, a lethal grin full of predatory anticipation. “I gotta go. I’ll call and update you as soon as I have her.”

  Her small, unsure voice returned. “Okay. Rick?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Be careful. I love you.” He had to strain to hear her soft words, ones that couldn’t have been easy for her to say. She was every bit as strong as Leigh. No two females belonged together as much as those two did.

  “I love you too, kiddo.” When the words broke free, they opened something inside him, a warm, soul-freeing, release.

  Damn. When was the last time I told anyone that? It had to have been before his mother died. He hadn’t even given those words to Leigh. She deserved them. If anything happened to her before he had a chance to give them to her, he’d never forgive himself.

  The phone disconnected and he tucked Addie’s sweet gift deep inside for later. Keeping his shit together had never been more critical. He quickly checked his missed call log and found five missed calls from Leigh. No messages.

  She’d needed him and hadn’t been able to reach him.

  Fuck.

  Simply keeping her under lock and key wasn’t good enough. She was a brave, fiercely independent woman, one totally capable of walking by his side. She’d been a saint through this entire ordeal, but he’d be a fool to think that she’d always be content to wait in the wings while he ran off into danger. She needed more than just a bodyguard, she needed a partner.

  He still had things to set straight, but first he had to finish this once and for all.

  “Mayhem? Go ahead.” With a wretched feeling slithering in his belly, he pulled up the map. Her car still sat parked along the side of the highway. He closed his eyes, bracing for confirmation that his suspicion was truth.

  She spoke, the stress in her voice transmitting clearly through his earpiece. “They’ve pulled into the rest stop. We’ve got a problem. A huge problem.”

  The steering wheel stuck to Leigh’s damp palms as she turned off the highway and into the rest stop. She took a deep breath, shifted into park and looked for the car Marcus had described. A dark gray four-door with tinted windows waited at the end of the row. She could just make out two figures inside, one in front and one in back.

  Echoes of Marcus’s threats replayed in her head as she turned off the ignition and exited the car. I get you. Rick gets his daddy. He can’t have both and, let’s face it. I’ll have much more fun playing with you. Bile rose in her throat. She dropped her keys and phone in the cupholder so Frederick would be able to take her car and call for help. She hoped he’d go straight to Rick. She’d called both Rick and Joe several times with no luck.

  He’ll come for me. I know he’ll come for me.

  She knew with every fiber of her being Rick wouldn’t stop until he found her. Even now, he hunted. If Marcus had set a trap, Rick wouldn’t be fooled for long. In no time, he’d regroup and he’d be hungrier, more determined than ever. She’d survived one round with Marcus. She’d survive another.

  Feeling as though she walked down a plank over shark infested waters, she made her way down the sidewalk. Even as the late afternoon sun beat down, chills crept into her very bones. She followed the instructions and opened the back door. Instead of Frederick Evans waiting to trade places with her, she found Marcus. With one arm stretched casually along the seat he held a black handgun. The dark eye of its muzzle stared straight at her. He waved her in with the other arm. “Come on in, love. At this very moment, one of my men has a gun trained on ol’ Fred. You wouldn’t want me to get impatient. Let’s go.”

  Marcus slipped his aviator style glasses down his nose. Arctic eyes glittered, daring her to disobey. When they made a slow sweeping survey of her, she shivered. He caught the subtle movement and grinned.

  He wore a dark gray athletic shirt and black fatigues, but they appeared new and… maybe even expensive? His boots looked like they were fresh out of the box, noth
ing like the ones Rick or her brother routinely wore. Theirs were well used, practical. Everything Marcus wore seemed more about appearances.

  When he slid mirrored glasses back into place, she almost sighed in relief, freed from his icy stare.

  Getting inside, she hoped she hadn’t made a terrible mistake. Chances were, she had, but she would not step back and allow Rick’s father, an innocent man, to die. She’d never be able to live with herself if she hadn’t acted, allowing the worst to come true.

  The moment she closed the door, the locks quietly engaged. In the driver’s seat, a thin man—younger and far less polished than Marcus—turned back to greet her. His blond, longish hair fell over one eye. “Hello.” Something familiar in his features nagged her. “Nice to meet you. Sorry it’s not under better circumstances.” He seemed genuinely happy to meet her as he smiled.

  Then it hit her. His mouth and eyes. Minus the warmth that entered Rick’s eyes whenever he looked at her, they could have been mirror images. The bone structure of their faces were miles apart, Rick’s full of masculine angles and planes, and the driver’s fine, almost to the point of frailty. But these new eyes were identical to the warm, dark chocolate ones she loved so much.

  How odd to find something so dear in someone so despicable.

  She remained silent and focused on keeping her nausea under control.

  A shark smiled with more warmth than Marcus, and he looked her up and down. “So pretty today. Wen, let’s go. On to our next stop! Oh, and Leigh? I lied. I don’t have ol’ Fred yet, but I will. We’re headed there now. What can I say? I’m a bastard. When I’m finished taking away everything Rick cares for, he’ll wish he were dead.” Her stomach lurched when the meaning of his words hit her.

  God, I’m such a fool. She’d only made a bigger mess for Rick to clean up.

  “What did I tell you, Wen? Everything planned out to the last detail and foolproof.”

  She smoothed her hands over her legs and prayed for time.

  Marcus’s hand drifted over her shoulder to her nape. He swept gentle caresses there, ignoring the gooseflesh he’d conjured as if it were the most natural thing in the world. She turned her head toward the window and her focus snagged on the rearview mirror. Wendell’s gaze met hers. It had to have been her imagination, or maybe their resemblance to Rick’s eyes, because for a moment she could have sworn they softened with sympathy.

  Craziness.

  It was likely her subconscious searching for a lifejacket in the storm.

  The scenery passed them by, a growing palette of greens as they headed father away from civilization and deeper into a woodsy rural area.

  Marcus spoke to Wen about the plans to rebuild his business from the ground up. She knew that she should probably commit as much of it to memory as possible, but couldn’t bring herself to care. Instead, she called up the faces of everyone she loved and wished she could write them a goodbye letter to be delivered if she didn’t make it out of this alive. As time wore on, and the highway whirred by, she worried that she might not get to see any of them again.

  But no matter the pain blooming in her heart, she refused to shed one tear. She’d put herself in this position. She and Marcus held the entirety of the blame.

  They exited the highway onto a long and winding stretch leading them into the heart of hill country. The narrow road led them to yet another lane, this one unlined and far narrower.

  She almost felt at home.

  “How’s it looking?” Marcus’s question broke into her thoughts. As Wen remained silent, she realized he must have been speaking to someone on the phone. “You’re sure we’re all clear? No sign of Evans?” He paused for a moment, then snapped. “Rick, the younger one, you idiot!” Unable to help herself, she listened intently, hoping for some sort of clue.

  “Good. He’s still chasing his own tail. No, don’t go check. I want you boys nearby. Wait for my word.”

  What wisps of hope she had evaporated as she heard his confidence return.

  They traveled the narrow lane until it brought them to an aging stone fence and iron gate, set with an enormous, ornate E. Wendell stopped the car, but before he could speak into the security box, the gate swung open.

  He drove them down the driveway and halfway around the pavement circling a large fountain. He parked in front of beautiful but imposing double-doors. The lovely heavy dark wood appeared to have been there from the dawn of time.

  “I’ve always admired this place. It stinks of old money and class. Silly me, at one time, I thought I belonged here.” Marcus spoke fondly of the home that, long ago, he’d known for a very short time. Appearing to shake off the nostalgia, he toughened. “Let’s go. We’ve got business to attend to. Wen, you go first. Gorgeous, don’t try anything. I was trained by the best, and there’s no outrunning a bullet.”

  She followed his lead. They strolled up to the front doors as casually as if they’d been invited to dinner. Then he jerked her to stand in front of his body, and he pressed the gun’s muzzle to her temple. She closed her eyes, filled with more regret than fear.

  When the door opened, followed by Frederick’s sharp inhalation, they popped open. “What in the world? What’s going on here? Marcus Lewis is that you?”

  “It’s Sutton, not Lewis, not Evans. I’m a bastard not worth claiming, remember? Let us in or she gets to decorate your front-step in blood and brain matter.”

  Frederick’s head snapped back in horror. He immediately opened the door wide and stepped to the side, giving them room.

  “Hi, Mr. Evans.” Wendell made his casual greeting as they walked in.

  Marcus snapped, losing a fraction of his composure. “Idiot. You don’t call him mister, he’s your father.”

  Wendell paused in the dim entryway to look at his reflection in an ornate framed mirror. He raked a hand through the ever-wayward shock of pale hair. “I know that. It just seems weird to call him Dad when I’ve never seen him before today. I’ve never been like you. I don’t do formalities. The uppercrust is such a stuffy place. I never really understood why people like it there.” Wendell shrugged, comfortable with his brother’s ire.

  Ignoring his brother, Marcus gave her a hard shake, jolting the pistol against her temple. “Show us to your office, Fred. You’re going to give me access to all your accounts. I need funds to restart what Rick destroyed. I’m collecting what the two of you owe me.” He jarred her again, as if to make a point.

  Shaken, Frederick led the way through a house that was as lovely as it was dark and impersonal. Dark paneled walls led them down wide hallways. Silence hung oppressive and heavy. An enormous grandfather clock sat like a sentry at the hallway’s end. The tick-tick-tick counted down like a bomb.

  So sad and lonely.

  She ached for the little boy had who lost his mother so young, then was dealt another vicious blow when he’d been sent away from the only home he’d known to live with strangers.

  Frederick indicated the office door with a welcoming gesture. His eyes remained pensive and alert.

  Like father, like son.

  “Wen, lead the way.” She felt Marcus jerk his head toward the door. “Fred, you follow. Times wasting. Pull up your account information. Start with your personal financials. We’ll go from there.”

  Frederick crossed a large room, straight from a Sherlock Holmes novel. She half expected Dr. Watson with his pipe to emerge from a heavy door on the rooms north wall. Rick’s father sat stiffly in his leather chair, framed in the big picture window displaying the manicured front lawn. “The process is quite complex and takes some time. I—”

  Marcus shoved her into the middle of the room and barked close to her ear, “Quit stalling. Just get it done.”

  Barely controlling her wince, she closed her eyes and hoped.

  “When you have the transfer ready, I’ll give you the account number.”

  From a distant memory, her father’s words came to her. A practical man without an ounce of fancy. Leigh, hopes and dreams
are fine things, but the real world is a hard, often cruel, place. To get anywhere, you have to be on your toes and work for what you want. Her young heart had been stung by the thought that he didn’t believe in something as lovely as hope, but at the core of it, he’d been right. A person had to work to obtain their dreams. She couldn’t just sit under the clouds and wait for magic to bless her.

  She had to watch and wait for the opportunity to make something happen. Waiting for Rick was fine, but she’d be an idiot if she didn’t keep her eyes open just in case a chance for escape occurred.

  “Wen, stop being a slug and keep watch.”

  “Sure.” He walked to the corner and leaned his side against a shelf filled with leather bound books. “Pretty place you have here, Mr. Evans. Looks like a golf course.”

  His head snapped around when the door in the middle of the opposite wall opened wide. Marcus’s body went tight as he turned them to face their meeting’s surprise addition.

  Her brother stepped out, handgun raised and pointed directly at Marcus. “Let her go.” Relief washed through her at the sight of Joe in old jeans and boots, standing in the dark doorway. He’d come out of uniform. Where is Rick? Cold, barely controlled fury hardened the face she’d once thrown snowballs at.

  “I don’t think so. Fred? Get to work. Nothing’s changed. I’m holding all the pretty cards right here in my hand.” He gave her another shake to make his point.

  Joe’s gaze flicked to hers, commanding her with a single glare that said behave and don’t do anything stupid. If she wasn’t up shit creek, she might have laughed at the absurdity of Joe expecting her to follow his orders.

  Currently? She absolutely would.

  “Uh? Marc? Maybe you should listen.” She chanced a glance at Wendell. White as freshly fallen snow, he stared at a point somewhere behind her and Marcus.

  Marcus snapped at his brother. “This is why you’ll always be a failure. You don’t have the balls it takes to get anywhere. You’re a fucking disgrace.” She sensed that Marcus’s attention was fractured as his body subtly shifted from Wendell to Joe and back with each word.