She didn’t feel safe. She was tingling, aware of Lynch’s closeness, the warmth of his body, the smell of his musk-based aftershave. Damn, where had that flood of sensation come from? One moment she had been slightly annoyed, even a little indignant and the next she was feeling this melting and thinking about how close they were to the couch across the room. She should have been more wary of Lynch. She had known from the moment she had met him that he was dangerous to her in every way. Intelligence, intuition, a boldness and power that she always found attractive in a man.
And he was reading that effect on her, she realized. His eyes were narrowed on her face, and he was smiling. “Say thank you, Lynch,” he said softly. “Go on, it’s easy.”
Nothing was going to be easy with Lynch. Her relationship with Jeff should have taught her a lesson. He had been driven and completely ruthless about using her, but Lynch put him in the shade. Lynch was larger-than-life and would try to manipulate her in any way he could.
And she was already afraid she was letting him do it. She would be crazy to also let him have sex as a weapon over her.
She stepped back and opened the door. “Screw you, Lynch. You were only protecting an investment. Good night.”
He laughed. “You’re wrong, you know. I’m self-serving, but I’m not that cerebral.” He went out the door and paused. “Lock it behind me. I’ll pick you up at eight.”
“Nine. I have calls to return from my mother and Olivia. I don’t seem to have time during the day.”
“Your decision. You’re the one who’s been keeping me hopping. Not that I’m complaining.” He moved down the hallway. “In certain areas, you’re very entertaining.”
She opened her lips to make a scathing reply, but he had already rounded the corner.
She slammed the door and turned the lock. Block Lynch from her mind. Forget those last few disturbing minutes and get to bed. She turned out the top light in the living room and kitchen and went to the bedroom.
Suddenly, she stopped in her tracks.
“I watched the lights go out one by one.”
Could he be—
She strode to the patio door overlooking the street and threw it open.
The Ferrari was still sitting in the parking spot, engine turned off.
She couldn’t see his expression.
But she heard him chuckle, dammit.
She stepped out under the patio light and deliberately shot him the bird.
And his chuckle became full-bodied laughter before he started the car’s engine.
She went back inside and locked the door again.
She was smiling faintly as she stood there in the dark, listening as he drove away. He was outrageous, out of control, and she should not be amused. But her responses to Lynch were never what they should be. He stirred to life the Kendra she had been during those years when she was as volatile and wild as a summer storm.
What the hell? That wasn’t so bad. It was sometimes good to revisit what you were so that you could compare it to what you had become.
And what had she become? Was she heading perilously close to being her mother? Didn’t they say that all daughters ended up that way? That wouldn’t be so terrible. Her mother was brilliant and certainly unusual and she loved her.
But it would be terrible for Kendra. No matter how she tried, she would not have been able to stand her usual day-to-day routine if it hadn’t been for the kids. In her heart, she was still that gypsy she had been all those years ago.
And Lynch had managed to resurrect that gypsy. It was only another indication of how dangerous he could be to her.
Or not. If she kept her balance and called the shots, maybe she didn’t have to be careful. Maybe she could just enjoy Lynch and play his games with no harm.
She shook her head, the smile still lingering as she headed for the bedroom. She would have to think about it. In the meantime, she had to get a little sleep. She needed to check her voice mail for possible news on Jimmy, then make her personal calls as soon as she got up in the morning.
And she would not think of Lynch until she saw him tomorrow.
* * *
OSCAR LAIRD GLANCED AROUND the deserted lot as the motorcyclist pulled up alongside his car. There was no way not to draw attention when that monster machine was roaring like a sick dragon, he thought with annoyance. He’d done the best he could by choosing the lot of a sad, half-completed office complex just off the I-805 freeway, but he’d better make the meeting brief and get out of there.
Tommy Briggs dismounted from the motorcycle and walked around to Laird’s passenger-side door. “Hell of a place to meet,” he said as he climbed into the car. “What the hell’s wrong with Rancho Bernardo?”
“I decided this was safer. The feds have been nosing around the area.”
“Shit.”
“We don’t think they know where our lab is located, but we need to be careful with our comings and goings.” Laird reached into the console and pulled out a sheet of paper with a color photo printed on it. “And you need to be careful everywhere. Those feds who almost took you down have been showing this up and down Highway 138.”
Briggs’s eyes widened as he stared at the photograph of himself. “You have to be kidding. Where the hell did they get this?”
“It came off a McDonald’s security camera on the morning you opened fire on those two agents on Devil’s Slide. Good picture of your friend, Leon, too, though I seriously doubt if he’d have been eating at McDonald’s if he’d known it would be his last meal.”
Briggs was still staring at the photo. “How the hell…?”
“You and Leon took it upon yourselves to declare war on a federal agent. They tend to take that kind of thing seriously.”
“I told you that we didn’t know who they were. They were heading right for our spot, and Leon panicked.”
“Then you panicked and killed Leon.”
“I didn’t have any choice. If I’d left him there, he’d—”
“Relax. Killing him was the one thing you did right. And the feds never found your burner bench. I thought it was foolish to spend all that money on the false door to that sealed mine, but it fooled ’em. We cleared it out a couple nights ago.”
“But we didn’t finish the last batch.”
“No, you didn’t. We had to do it for you. And that will be reflected in your payment.”
Briggs tossed the paper down. “That’s bullshit.”
“We had an agreement, Briggs. You didn’t fulfill your part of it.”
“I did way more than I bargained for on this job. You hired me to stay close to Leon and be the muscle to keep the project going. I didn’t sign on to stand over him while he was cooking up your concoction out in the middle of freaking nowhere in 110-degree heat, fighting off scorpions and snakes every damned day while you guys worked in those air-conditioned palaces in the suburbs.”
“Hardly palaces. And your working conditions were built into your payment.”
“And what about killing Leon? Was that built into my payment, too?”
“Spare me.” He gave him a sardonic glance. “You did that to save your own skin.”
Briggs flushed with anger. “You think I liked doing that shit? I liked Leon. He made me laugh, you know?”
“Were you laughing when you blew his head off?”
“Screw you.”
Laird made the effort to restrain his anger. Briggs was only a tool that had to be used. “And we both know that Leon isn’t the first man you’ve killed. You’ve been lucky not to have been picked up before this.”
Briggs opened his lips to deny it, but when he met Laird’s eyes, he closed them without speaking.
“You’d do better to stop lying and trying to shake me down and concentrate on the fix you’re in. The feds are probably going to know who Leon was in the next couple days. When that happens, will they be talking to anyone in Leon’s circle who might be able to point at you?”
“Maybe.” Briggs thought abo
ut it. “He’s spent the last few years working at Schuyler’s factory outside London, but he has a sister here, and we all went out for drinks one night. But how are they going to find him? He’s never been arrested, never been fingerprinted that I know about.”
“The feds have their ways, and you ran into a couple of particularly savvy agents. Could they trace you through Leon?”
“Not my home address.”
“They’ll find it. They’ll find out everything. They won’t give up until they do.”
Briggs began to curse. “How in hell did they find us?”
That was the question Laird had been waiting for. “The woman. She found you. Apparently, she’s exceptional.”
“Should have killed her when I had the chance. Damned FBI.”
“Actually, she’s not FBI.”
“What do you mean?”
“Her name is Dr. Kendra Michaels. She’s some kind of psychologist. She consults with law enforcement but doesn’t even carry a gun.”
Briggs snorted. “She doesn’t need one. She clotheslined Leon right off his motorcycle. Damned bitch. And now you’re telling me that because of her, I’m not going to get paid what I was promised.”
“That’s one way of looking at it. Or you could choose to take some personal responsibility.”
“Screw that. You just told me it was her fault.”
“She’s definitely a threat to us … and to you.”
Briggs’s eyes were suddenly narrowed on Laird’s face. “You’re getting at something. I’m not stupid, Laird.”
He was very stupid. But he had a basic cunning that helped him to survive, together with several lethal capabilities that made him valuable to Schuyler. “I would never suggest you’re stupid, Briggs. And a solution to our mutual problem just occurred to me. You need to redeem yourself and earn the rest of the fee you forfeited. While we have to protect our security in any way we can.” He smiled. “I believe I’m going to have an important position opening soon. I may have an opportunity for you to better yourself, Briggs.”
* * *
“IT’S ABOUT TIME YOU CALLED me back,” Olivia said as soon as she picked up Kendra’s call the next morning. “If I hadn’t heard from you today, I was going to park myself on your doorstep and wait for you.”
“You sound just like my mother. She just read me the riot act.” Kendra sighed. “Okay, I should have returned your call, but I was busy during the day, then I’d get home too late. I didn’t want to wake you.”
“She should have read you the riot act. You knew that neither one of us wanted you to go along with that FBI agent, then you ignore our calls.”
“I didn’t ignore—it just happened.”
Olivia was silent. “And what else happened? I assume you haven’t found Jeff yet?”
“No, but we’re getting closer … I think.”
“But you don’t know?”
“It’s become very … tangled.”
Olivia muttered a curse. “That’s what you said when you were looking for those kidnapped kids. Get out, Kendra. Tell this Lynch to go take a hike.”
“I don’t know if he’d go.” She paused. “I don’t know if I’d want him to go. He’s very sharp, and he can help me find out what happened to Jeff. I don’t want to give up now.”
“I was afraid of that.” She didn’t speak for a moment. “Look, I want my chance to talk you out of it. I’m coming over after work, and we’ll have a drink and go out to dinner.”
“I don’t know what time I’ll be home.”
“Then I’ll tell you what time to be home,” Olivia said brusquely. “I’ll be over at seven. I’ll make dinner reservations at Alfredo’s for eight thirty. Don’t stand me up.”
“Olivia, this isn’t a good time.”
“Anytime is good for friends to be together.” Olivia’s voice was suddenly soft and persuasive. “Come on, forget about all that FBI crap and relax and have dinner with me.” Olivia’s tone changed back to its former crispness. “It’s settled. After I have you half-inebriated and entirely mellow, we’ll discuss your continuing with this FBI stuff. Bye.” She hung up.
Kendra was shaking her head as she pressed the disconnect. Olivia was going to be very difficult. Kendra would have been smarter to have kept in touch with her during these days instead of making her worry. Now that worry had brought determination, and when Olivia was determined, she was a force to be reckoned with.
Of course, Kendra could skip the dinner at Alfredo’s.
No, she couldn’t. You didn’t do that to friends you loved. She’d have to sit through dinner and let Olivia coax and persuade and amuse her as she always did. Her friend was always good to be with even when she had an agenda.
So accept, enjoy the meal, and try to convince Olivia that she was not going to end up as the basket case she’d been when the kids had been killed.
And try to convince herself at the same time.
* * *
OSCAR LAIRD STRODE ACROSS the alley and approached a dilapidated twelve-unit apartment building in National City. The place was more run-down than he remembered, but it suited his purposes. Not the best neighborhood for a stroll even so early in the morning, but he was more concerned about what waited for him in apartment 206.
Laird climbed the short flight of stairs to the second story. The building’s dozen units—six on each level—faced outdoor walkways and a tiny grassless plot that was a pathetic excuse for a courtyard. He warily glanced around. Most of the units were vacant, and the complex’s few residents appeared to be inside sleeping.
He knocked softly and used a key to let himself inside the apartment. He closed the door, but before his eyes could even adjust to the darkness, he heard Rusin’s voice.
“Hell of a place you got here,” Rusin said sourly.
Laird gaze searched the room until he made out a shadowy figure sitting on the floor. “It’s not the Ritz, but we can come and go without being noticed. That’s more important than a mint on the pillow.”
“Not only is there no mint, there’s no pillow. Or a stick of furniture. Or power. Or running water. What kind of operation are you guys running here?”
“An operation that no longer has need for this apartment. At least, we didn’t think we did.”
Rusin stood up and moved toward him. “Until I botched a job, huh?”
“It happens.”
“Not to me.”
Laird stepped back and opened the dated vertical blinds that covered the front window.
“What the hell are you doing?” Rusin asked.
“Trying to get a little more light in here. I just want to take a look at your hand.”
“My hand is fine. I sewed it up myself.” Rusin held up his thumb and forefinger and showed him the precise, almost surgical, stitching that ran down to the back of his wrist.
“Very neat. I’m impressed.”
“I take care of myself. I’m a professional.”
“The Dunn job was far from professional. I’m having to arrange to have the kill completed at the hospital.” He paused. “And you blundered with Kendra Michaels and the child. That’s unacceptable, Rusin.”
“Okay, so send me on my way. I’ll find plenty of jobs and clients who appreciate me. But not until you pay me what you owe me.” He added, “And tell me what shit was making those marks I killed sick. You only told me that I had to stay with them until they were dead and watch for any unusual signs of rapid disintegration immediately afterward.”
“That was all you needed to know.”
“Is it? I’ve been thinking about it, and Schuyler deals with all kinds of nasty pharmaceuticals. What if this was supernasty? What if it was contagious?”
“It’s not contagious.”
“So you say. What the hell is it?”
“I’m afraid that’s classified information, Rusin.”
“Bullshit. If there’s even a chance it’s contagious, and it’s in my body, it better become unclassified in the next ten seconds.�
��
“I can tell you this. In the chemistry field, it’s what is known as a catalyst.”
“A catalyst for what?”
“It reacts with something specific in the bodies of each of your targets. Did you think we were so unsure of your abilities that we wanted you to stab and poison them?”
“It was none of my business. I once worked for a lady in Bangkok who wanted me to strangle her enemies, cut off their balls, and shove them in their mouths. As long as the customer pays, I give ’em what they want.”
“That’s why I brought you in, Rusin. You’re good.”
“For an old guy, you mean.”
“For any guy. It’s just unfortunate we have to part ways.” Laird pulled a thin wallet from his breast pocket and opened it to reveal a syringe. “Here. If it makes you feel better, the stuff in this syringe is used to nullify the effects of the substance. Not that you’ll need it.” He uncapped the syringe and moved toward Rusin. “If you’ll just roll up your sleeve…”
“Get the hell away from me with that.”
“It will be fine. I’ve been assured this is an antidote to the—”
He tensed. “Step back, Laird.”
Laird smiled. “I thought you wanted my help. Isn’t that why you called and asked to meet me?”
“I’ll tell you how you can help me.”
“By all means.”
“I have a doctor who is already on his way into town. He’s on a chartered plane from Seattle, which you will be paying for. We’ll meet him at the airport, and you’re going to tell him exactly what I need. He’ll get the medication and administer it himself.”
“Aren’t you being a wee bit paranoid? I told you it wasn’t contagious.”
“It’s how I’ve stayed alive so long, Laird. You want to know my number one occupational hazard? Not the cops, not my marks, but my employers. Instead of thinking of me as a trusted business associate, some choose to think of me as a loose end.”
“Remember who you’re talking to, Rusin. When my partners wanted to go with someone younger, I told them it had to be you.”
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