by Lori Wilde
Her treacherous heart leaped with joy at the sight of him when it should have been condemning the wretched scumbag. She’d never been so happy to see anyone in her entire life.
Even though she shouldn’t be, she was glad, glad, glad he was here and she wasn’t alone anymore.
“Mmghphm,” she mumbled through the duct tape.
“You”—the man motioned to Petey with his gun—“take the tape off and let her speak. And you”—he frowned at Sal—“tie this guy up.”
Sal went to fetch some rope while Petey squatted beside her and ripped the tape off her mouth.
“Ouch!”
“Payback’s a bitch,” Petey said. “That’s for biting my thumb.”
Oh, well, at least she’d gotten a free lip waxing out of the deal.
“I need to pee,” she squawked. “Now.”
Petey looked to the man with the gun. He nodded.
“But you go with her.”
Charlee winced. She wasn’t crazy about the idea of having Petey in the bathroom with her but at this point her eyeballs were swimming and her modesty had pretty much disappeared.
Petey untied the rope from around her ankles so she could walk, but the well-dressed man wouldn’t let him untie her hands. She almost fell when she put weight on her feet but Petey caught her by the elbow and held her steady.
“How am I supposed to get my underwear down?” she grumbled.
“Just consider me your third hand.” Petey grinned lewdly and wriggled his fingers at her.
Charlee wished she hadn’t asked.
“If you do anything to her…” Mason started to threaten before the man in the suit shoved the gun against his temple and commanded, “Shut up.”
When she returned from the bathroom with Petey, who’d actually been a perfect gentleman and averted his eyes after skimming her panties to her knees, she felt like a new woman. Pain-free and ready to start kicking some big thug butt.
Mason was tied up and sitting in the beanbag chair. Petey bound her ankles again and shoved her down on top of Mason.
She didn’t want to take solace in his hard, masculine body but damn her, she did. Her short skirt exposed her thighs and the material of his shorts rubbed comfortingly against her skin.
The new guy was leaning against the windowsill, flanked by Petey and Sal. He cleared his voice. “Now that we have all the amenities taken care of, allow me to introduce myself. I’m Spencer Cahill, CEO of Twilight Studios.”
Mason shifted beneath her and she sensed his confusion mirroring her own. Why had the head of Twilight Studios taken them hostage? Had he discovered they were masquerading as Skeet and Violet Hammersmitz and he was really pissed off about it?
But no, that couldn’t be. His henchmen had been following them since Vegas. Spencer Cahill obviously knew who they were.
“Let me assure you, if you do as I say, you will come to no physical harm and following the Academy Awards tomorrow night you will be released.”
“The Academy Awards?” Mason sounded as confused as she felt. What did the Academy Awards have to do with anything?
Cahill’s eyes narrowed. “You don’t know what this is all about, do you?”
“No.”
“Ah, that’s quite interesting.”
“Interesting?”
“Humorous.” Cahill laughed a dry laugh suggesting he wasn’t the least bit amused.
“Let us in on the joke. We could use a good chuckle,” Charlee said.
“I suppose I should take comfort in the fact your grandfather has kept his mouth shut. It bodes well for your chances of getting out of this alive.”
“What are you talking about?” Mason’s muscles tensed beneath her fanny and his voice bristled.
“By the way, where is your grandfather?”
“You tell me, Cahill. You seem to be the grand Pooh-Bah around here.”
Cahill studied Mason for a long moment. “For all your traipsing from Las Vegas to Arizona to California you haven’t located your grandfather?”
“How could we with Frick and Frack over there riding our bumper?” Mason nodded at Sal and Petey.
“Hey,” Petey started, “I resent…” But Cahill cut him off short with a quelling glance.
“Never mind. We’ll find him.”
“I don’t get it,” Charlee said. “What’s the big deal about the Academy Awards?”
“This has something to do with Blade Bradford,” Mason said flatly.
“You’re an astute young man.”
“So clue me in, fellas,” Charlee said. “I wanna know what’s going on.”
Cahill pushed off from the windowsill, clasped his hands behind his back, and walked closer to the beanbag chair. “I see no harm in telling you what you’re up against. In fact, it might insure your cooperation.”
“Just tell us what’s going on,” Mason seethed.
“As you’re probably aware, Blade Bradford is up for his second Oscar for The Righteous, a film produced by Twilight Studios.”
“Yes, they kept yammering on and on about it while we were on the studio lot filming the Newlywed Game.” Charlee nodded.
“Oh, by the way,” Cahill said. “I applaud your ingenuity. Getting yourselves on my Newlywed Game in order to elude my assistants.” He shook his head. “Clever, very clever. And don’t think I missed the irony. Here I was footing the bill for your stay at the Grand Piazza, which by the way runs a thousand dollars a night, and I couldn’t touch you because of all the media coverage I’d arranged to promote the show.”
She wasn’t about to tell the guy they had stumbled into the deal. Let Cahill keep thinking they were brilliant strategists.
“A thousand dollars a night? You rich people are nuts.” Charlee shook her head.
“Go on about Blade Bradford,” Mason said. “What’s this got to do with my grandfather?”
“Ah, yes. Last year, while going through some old records, I discovered quite by accident that Mr. Bradford did not legitimately win his first Oscar.”
“No?”
“In fact, I’ve seen the original voting record from 1955. Your grandfather actually got the most votes.”
“Someone cooked the books,” Mason said.
“Of course,” Cahill continued. “It seems the same year he was nominated for his first Oscar, Blade Bradford married Sheila Jenkins, the daughter of the man who once owned the accounting firm that audits the Oscars.”
“The same accounting firm Gentry Enterprises now holds controlling interest in.”
“Precisely. To make his new son-in-law’s career, Max Jenkins cheated.”
“What’s that got to do with present circumstances?” Mason asked.
Cahill smiled. “I don’t know if you’re aware of this, but Twilight Studios has not been particularly financially viable in recent years. As CEO, I’ve had to make a few executive decisions.”
“Such as?”
Charlee could feel the heat of Mason’s breath burning along the nape of her neck and she shivered.
“Convincing Sheila Bradford, who is still on the board of directors at the accounting firm and has a very strong influence there, that a second fix might just be the thing both Blade and Twilight Studios needed to boost our flagging sales.”
“So that’s what this is all about? Cheating on the Oscars.”
Cahill smiled again, uglier this time. “Cheating to get what you want is as American as apple pie.”
“Not in my America, buddy.” Mason’s voice was hard, unflinching.
“I applaud your gung ho, Boy Scout attitude, Mr. Gentry, truly I do, but really it shows an appalling lack of sophistication. I might have expected such lowbrow sentiment from someone like Ms. Champagne here, but from a man such as yourself?” Cahill clicked his tongue like a disappointed parent.
Hey! She bristled. Had that creep just insulted her? She glared at him.
“Listen here, Cahill,” Mason ground out. “Don’t you say disparaging things about Charlee.”
&
nbsp; “Ah, I see the lay of the land.” Cahill pursed his lips and smirked. “You and Ms. Champagne have obviously bonded. I’m assuming you made good use of the honeymoon suite intended for Skeet and Violet Hammersmitz.”
“That’s none of your business. Leave Charlee out of all of this.” My hero.
The words blazed across her mind like a neon billboard. Mason had defended her honor. Her chest swelled with pride, delight, and respect and then she got mad at herself for forgiving him so easily. She was not letting him off the hook without busting his chops first.
“I wish I could leave her out of it, but like it or not, Ms. Champagne is involved. You involved her when you left Vegas with her.”
“I don’t care what you say, I don’t cheat and neither does my grandfather,” Mason insisted.
Except on your fiancée, Charlee thought.
“And she’s not my fiancée,” he growled low in her ear, reading her mind so uncannily that Charlee jumped.
“I’m merely pointing out the obvious,” Cahill continued “But you of all people, Mr. Gentry, should understand how the real world runs. Don’t tell me you’ve never ordered the books to be cooked to make your company’s bottom line look better to investors.”
“Never.”
“And you call yourself an investment banker?” Cahill shook his head.
“You’re sunk, Cahill. I’m damn well going to the television stations with what you’ve just told me. It’s over.”
“If I believed that, then I would have to let Sal and Petey kill you. Fortunately, I’m confident you won’t go to the media.”
“How can you be so sure?”
The intensity of Mason’s anger generated so much body heat Charlee feared he’d sear a hole in her fanny. She had the sense that if Mason wasn’t hog-tied, he would be performing a few of his more advanced tae kwon do moves on Cahill.
“I’m certain you won’t go public. If I wasn’t I wouldn’t have told you a thing. See, we’re now partners in conspiracy, you and I.”
“The hell we are.”
“Such vehemence. I remember what it’s like to be young and passionate.”
“I’m not like you. Not in the least.”
“Perhaps you’re right. However, one fact remains that ensures your silence and loyalty to my cause. Your family’s auditing firm will be implicated if you go public with this information after Bradford receives the Academy Award.”
“But you know my family wasn’t involved,” Mason protested. “We have no motive.”
“It didn’t matter with Arthur Anderson either. Only a few bad eggs were enough to topple one of the top four international auditing firms. Unluckily for you, Mr. Gentry, I’m your bad egg. You not only jeopardize yourself but your entire family fortune as well. Open your mouth and your life as you know it is over.”
CHAPTER 18
Mason didn’t believe for a moment that Cahill would allow them to walk out of the farmhouse alive. The only reason he hadn’t already killed them was because he was planning on using them as added lever-age to keep Nolan quiet.
Cahill left the farmhouse, instructing Sal and Petey to watch over them. The two men had gone back to their gin game in the kitchen while Mason and Charlee remained piled on top of each other in the beanbag chair.
The weight of her body in his lap would have been uncomfortable were it not so erotic. Every time she squirmed, his body hardened.
“Sit still, dammit,” he said, his teeth clenched.
“My leg is cramping up.”
“That’s not the only thing cramping up.”
She gave a little gasp. “You’re getting a boner.”
“Yeah, so quit moving.”
“I don’t believe this. What are you, Gentry, some kind of sex machine? You’ve got two women and neither of us can keep you satisfied,” she snapped.
“You’re the only one who turns me on.”
“I’m sure Daphne takes great comfort in that.”
“Listen, Charlee, I’m so sorry about what happened”
“Save it for someone who cares.”
Thank God, she stopped moving. They sat together in the darkness, her head tucked under his chin, her spine flush against his chest, his butt buried deep in the foul smelling beanbag chair. They breathed together in a raspy, sweaty, rhythm and it took a while for him to calm down.
“I should have told you I was almost engaged,” he said. “It was wrong of me not to.”
“I don’t give a damn, Gentry. Honest.”
“You lie.”
“Oh, please, don’t flatter yourself.”
“You’re going to tell me last night meant nothing to you?”
“That’s right.”
He clenched his jaw and all the hopes and dreams he’d been spinning in his head about a future with Charlee shattered. Had he been so wrong? Had he just imagined the chemistry—both physical and mental—between them? Or was she simply being stubborn, denying her feelings in order to punish him for not telling her about Daphne?
“I’m going to let this issue drop for the time being. We’ve got a serious problem on our hands.” He kept his voice to a whisper just in case Sal and Petey were straining their ears to listen in on their conversation. “But don’t think the discussion is closed.”
“Yes it is, because the goons are going to kill us.” The calmness in her voice gave him strength. She wasn’t afraid. She wouldn’t panic like she had with the spider.
“It’s a distinct possibility,” he admitted.
“Just my luck I have to die with Don Juan Gentry.”
“Don’t make jokes about this and I’m not a Don Juan.”
“You coulda fooled me.”
“For what it’s worth, I wish you weren’t here either”
“Yes, yes. I’m fully aware you’re regretting ever having met me.”
“Nonsense,” he shouted, then remembered to lower his voice. “I don’t regret meeting you! You’re the best thing that ever happened to me.”
Charlee snorted, sending a puff of warm air rolling over his cheek. “Oh, yeah, right. I’m betting you said something suspiciously similar to Daphne once upon a time.”
“Dammit, Charlee,” he snarled. “Will you let go of your anger for two seconds? Not that your wrath isn’t justified. In fact, I wouldn’t blame you if you never spoke to me again after the stunt I pulled. What I meant by my remark was that I wish you were far away from here and safe.”
“Do you mean it?” she asked after a long pause.
“That I’m the best thing that ever happened to you?”
“I never meant anything more in my life.”
“Seriously?”
“It doesn’t get much more serious than this.”
“How am I the best thing that ever happened to you?”
“Since I met you I’ve come alive. You jostled me out of my doldrums. You’re the breath of fresh air in my stale, studied world. You turned me on my ear. Woman, you made me forget Daphne even existed.”
“You don’t think it’s just the excitement of the car chases and the goons waving guns at us and the hot sex do you?” She sounded as nervous as he felt.
“I’ll admit these past few days have been a thrill ride but they’ve been exciting because of you.”
“Oh.”
He could hear in her tone that she wanted to believe him. Please, let her believe him. He gave her time to mull things over before saying, “I feel like an ass. I was supposed to be rescuing you, but I mucked things up and got caught by Cahill.”
“Hey, I let myself get snatched by Dumb and Dumber Doesn’t make me feel particularly bright.”
“This is all my fault. You were upset. If you hadn’t just found out about Daphne, you wouldn’t have had your guard down.”
“Don’t flatter yourself, Gentry.”
“You can’t fool me, Charlee. Last night was special I challenge you to deny it.” He lifted his chin and nuzzled the curve of her neck.
“Well, I have to
confess I enjoyed last night a little bit more than I’m enjoying tonight.”
They fell silent.
That nasty old guilt nibbled at him. “I’m truly sorry I didn’t tell you about Daphne before. I guess I never thought things between you and me were going to end up the way they did.”
“I don’t want to talk about this anymore. We need to concentrate on escaping. The sooner the better.”
“You got any plans?”
“No, do you?”
“Not really.”
“All rightee then.”
More silence.
“I do have a rental car parked about a quarter of a mile away. If we could get loose we’ve got a ride back to L.A.”
“Assuming Cahill doesn’t find the car.”
“Assuming.”
“How did you get your hands on a rental car?”
“It was Daphne’s.”
“Oh, I bet that went over big.”
“She’s not an unreasonable woman.”
“Which is what everyone looks for in a mate. Rich, sexy bachelor searching for wife. Must be sophisticated, beautiful, and oh, yes, above all, reasonable.”
“You think I’m sexy?” he teased, grinning into her hair.
She poked him in the belly with her thumb.
“Ow, what was that for?”
“Being cocky.”
“Babe, you have no idea.”
“Knock off calling me babe. I’m not your babe or your sweetheart or your darling and I most certainly am not reasonable. If the tables were turned and Daphne had been kidnapped and you tried to borrow my car I wouldn’t let you have it.”
“You’d let the villains spirit her away?”
“Damned skippee.”
“Lucky for you, Daphne’s reasonable.”
“No, lucky for you. If you were my fiancé and I caught you cheating on me, I’d castrate you with a pocketknife.”
“For the last time, she isn’t my fiancée. I never popped the question.”
“Yeah, but you two obviously had an understanding.”
“Things change, but I do regret the way it all transpired transpired. I never meant to hurt either one of you.” He lowered his voice, dipped his head, and blew on the back of her neck. Delight shafted through him when she shivered against the heat. “And if you were my fiancée, I would never cheat on you.”