Hide and Seek

by Desiree Holt

  He was glad Sheri had turned over the cell phone to Avery. She’d put one of her best techs on it right away. Time was at a premium. There was no telling when these assholes would make another try at Devon, and they needed some idea of what they were dealing with.

  When the doorbell sounded, he turned the soup down and hurried to answer it before Devon woke. Through the peephole, he saw Mike Bell.

  “How about coming out to eyeball this?” he asked.

  “Sure. Let’s take a look.”

  Logan figured even the richest oil baron would be safe in this place when his guys got through. Sensors on all the windows and around the door, motion sensors around the perimeter, plus scattered on the wide lawn, cameras at every possible place. And three high-tech computers to receive the feeds.

  “Think that’ll do it?” Mike asked, holding the diagram for him to see.

  “Damn straight. How long until it’s in working order?”

  Mike looked at his watch. “Most of it before dark tonight. We’ll finish up the odds and ends in the morning.”

  “None of those odds and ends would let someone in overnight, would they?”

  Mike chuckled. “In their dreams. Even at half-mast, we’re good to go.”

  “Great. Thanks. And tell Avery thanks.”

  He filled a mug with coffee and went to stand at the window, letting everything he knew—which was damn little—roll around in his head. What if that whole thing with the boat had been staged? What if someone went to a lot of trouble to make sure it looked like a voluntary disappearance? That someone would have to be smart and used to doing things like that.

  He thought about the house alarm system being disabled. That was easy enough to do, even from a distance if it wasn’t sophisticated enough. Electromagnetic pulse systems, EMPs, had become common tools for such jobs. Had Graham done it, to throw people off the track?

  If it wasn’t him and it wasn’t whoever owned the guys from the highway, did that mean there was a third player? Who the fuck was it? What did he want with Graham Cole? If there was indeed an unknown player here, that could mean Devon was in even more danger.

  He turned off the soup on the stove and decided to do a more thorough room-by-room search while she slept. You never knew what you’d find. A lot of people dismissed the idea that houses had “feelings” in them, a sense of good or evil. Logan believed in them, in his gut reaction to things. This house had a bad feeling in the air.

  He checked every inch of the closets, the shelves, the furniture, even under the beds. He took the time to go through the clothes hanging in the bedroom closet, searching for anything that might have been left in a pocket. He’d learned through experience that even when people thought they’d been thorough, they invariably left something behind.

  He even pulled out the drawers in Graham Cole’s desk to see if there was anything hidden there. His efforts turned up a big fat zero. There was nothing. A black ops team couldn’t have sanitized this place better. He was sure Cole was the one who’d done it. The two idiots who ran Devon off the road couldn’t find their asses with both hands.

  He’d left nothing containing any information at all. Not even on paper. If he was that thorough, he was either in deep shit or running from some very bad people or both. The only aberration was that he’d dropped his cell phone and hadn’t realized it. Logan could only guess that something drastic had happened to make the man leave in such a hurry that he’d made a mistake like that.

  As Logan cleared each room, the feeling of evil intensified. He wasn’t a person given to supernatural things by any means. But in the Marines, he’d learned to trust his instincts about everything. That sense had saved his life more than once. Something bad had happened here. Maybe more than one something. Whatever Graham Cole had done, whatever happened the day he disappeared, it left its imprint here.

  He spent another fifteen minutes checking out the garage. There was room enough for four vehicles. Right now it held a Porsche as well as a motorcycle. There was a slot for the Mercedes that had been impounded and one open slot he assumed Devon used when she was here. Or any visitors he had. That was another thing. Who visited him here? Did he have out-of-town company? Devon said he told her he held business meetings here but with who? What kind of business? He wanted to make sure he wasn’t missing anything.

  It galled him that the man had left his daughter to deal with the fallout. Didn’t he think whoever was after him would shift the focus to her when they couldn’t find him?

  He wondered for one brief moment if Devon could possibly be involved. Then he brushed it aside. He didn’t believe it. Even more, he didn’t want to believe it. She hadn’t given off any vibes that indicated she was. Certainly today’s episode should be a good indication she wasn’t. Still, in the back of his mind he knew he had to at least entertain the idea that she was a part of this, of the man’s disappearance. From day one in the Marines he’d been taught the detail you missed was the one that could kill you. So he always examined all angles.

  His phone rang just as he finished. He looked at the readout. Avery.

  “They’re really humping it getting the alarm system installed,” he told her. “Thanks for getting right on it.”

  “I told them it was urgent. These guys are fast. You know that.”

  “Did you learn any more at the dock?”

  The sound she made was close to a snort. “I wish. Russell Deering and I know the fire chief, so they’ll fax reports over to me as soon as they have anything to tell. I think you’re right. The fire was set to draw Devon out, especially given what happened on the way to the marina. But just in case there’s something else going on here, I’ve got Angel hanging out on the dock, in his board shorts and T-shirt, helping with the hoses and cleanup.”

  “Good, good.” With his Hispanic ancestry, in a state with a heavy Hispanic population and cultural influence, Angel Cabrera easily blended into any place she sent him. He had a gift for getting people to tell him things without realizing it.

  “And we’re working on the backgrounds of the Cole International execs. Do you have everything there you need?”

  Logan had his own personal weapons with him—a Glock 19, a Ruger LCP, and his Ka-Bar knife. They were like old friends, and he could handle anything with them.

  “No, I’m good. I’m hoping we don’t get into an all-out shooting war. How are you coming with the phone?”

  “We’ve just gotten started with it. First of all, it’s not an ordinary cell phone. It’s made by a company like the one that makes ours.”

  “So it’s ten times as hard to crack.”

  “That’s right. We got past the factory restore and there’s data on it, but it also seems to have multiple passwords.”

  Logan snorted. “Can you say paranoid? Now I’m sure there’s shit on it we need.”

  “I’ve got Del on it. He’s got it hooked up to a bunch of different programs at the same time. If anyone can break it, that would be him.”

  “Okay. Keep me in the loop on that.”

  “Ginger’s been digging into Graham Cole with an electronic shovel. I want to know everything from the past ten years, personal and corporate. There’s a clue somewhere and I mean for us to find it. I’ll bet we find a lot of unpleasant crap there.”

  “I hope we find something soon,” he told her. “I don’t think they’re near done with her.”

  “And that’s why you’re there, Mr. Marine.”

  “Ooh rah.”

  Avery laughed. “How is she, anyway?”

  “Sleeping. I hope you get into that cell phone pretty damn quick. I have the feeling it holds the key to a lot of things.”

  “We’re working on it. Just like I said two minutes ago.”

  “I know, I know.” He raked his hand over his hair. “I just have this hinky feeling there is something dangerous we need to be prep
ared for.”

  “If it forced Graham Cole to disappear, you can damn well be sure it’s dangerous. I’ll keep you posted.”

  “When you have something, I think we need to show it to Devon, too.”

  “Okay. Sure.” There was silence for a moment. “Are we sure we want her to see whatever we find out?”

  “I think she has to know,” Logan told her. “She’s smart and no shy violet. Whatever it is, she can handle it.”

  “I agree. Whenever I’ve spent time with her, I got that same impression. That lady’s really got her act together. I’m sending a file on her to your laptop. Check it in a few minutes.”

  Logan lifted his eyebrows. “A file on Devon? You have one already?”

  Avery chuckled. “Logan, there wasn’t much info to gather. She leads a pretty normal life.”

  Of course she did.

  “And Logan?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Keep her safe.”

  “Count on it.”

  He stashed the cell and decided to go check on Devon. As he headed toward the bedrooms he heard retching and followed it to her en suite bathroom. The door was partially closed so he eased it open the rest of the way. She was on her knees at the toilet, dry heaving, her body shuddering. He wasn’t at all surprised. She’d held it together remarkably well, when many other women would have been basket cases. A meltdown was not at all unexpected. He grabbed a washcloth from a towel rack and wet it, handed it to her, and hit the flush lever.

  “Here.” He spoke in a soft voice. “You’ll need this.”

  “Oh, God.” She looked up at him. “Thank you. I think I’m too sick to be embarrassed.”

  “Nothing to be embarrassed about. Delayed reaction. Happens to all of us.”

  She gave him a weak smile. “Even former Marines?”

  “Even.” He ran water into a cup, took the washcloth from her, and handed her the drink. “Swish this in your mouth. It helps.”

  Her body shook so much he had to steady her with his arm. He managed to get her to rinse her mouth before lifting her to her feet and bracing her with his arm. He wet the washcloth again, ran it over her face, then lifted her in his arms.

  “So much for the muffins and coffee.”

  He had to give her points for trying to make a joke.

  “Okay, then. Let’s get you back to bed.”

  She shook her head. “You can put me down. I won’t fall on my face. Honest.”

  “Promise?” He winked at her, trying to lighten the atmosphere.

  She held up three fingers. “Scout’s honor. I’m afraid if I crawl back under the covers, I won’t get out until morning, and I know I need to eat. Are you cooking something in the kitchen? Whatever it is smells fabulous.”

  “Logan Malik’s famous chicken noodle soup.”

  “Mmmm. Sounds good. But first I need to take something for this headache.”

  He sat her on the edge of the tub while he found aspirin and made her swallow two of them. She drained the glass, then splashed water on her face, inhaled, and let the breath out slowly. She patted her face dry with a towel and tried to smile at him.

  Logan made a silent vow he would do his damnedest to make sure she was safe and to help her through this. Too bad for him what he really wanted was to wrap his arms around her and hold her tight against him.

  As a comfort, he told himself silently.

  Yeah, right. Fooling yourself much, Malik?

  “Okay.” Her lips curved in a tiny smile. “Heat up the soup. I’ll be out in a minute.”

  Chapter 5

  Devon’s sleep had been anything but restful. If she hadn’t been worn out from the shock of what happened, she might have slept longer. But the black SUV and the two men kept intruding into her dreams. One minute they were running her off the road, and the next they were chasing her and Logan and shooting at them.

  She looked at herself in her bathroom mirror and made a face. She was paler than a hospital sheet, and fear had stamped dark shadows beneath her eyes.

  “Pull up your big girl panties,” she ordered herself, and headed into her bedroom.

  The clothes she’d worn carried the odor of smoke and burning oil from the docks so she tossed them onto the floor of the closet to wash later. She pulled on a fresh pair of jeans and a soft cotton long-sleeved shirt, brushed her hair, and pulled it into a neat ponytail. She looked in the mirror again and made a face. Better but not much.

  The pleasant aroma of the soup tickled her nose and her stomach grumbled. The soup sounded better and better. As she made her way into the kitchen she heard Logan’s voice. Was someone here? God. How many people would she have to face before she had her act together? But when she walked into the kitchen, she saw he had his cell phone to his ear.

  “Devon’s up,” he told whoever was on the other end of the conversation. “Gotta go.” He stuck his phone in his pocket and looked her over.

  “Much better.”

  She made a face. “And you’re a big fat liar, but thanks. Who was on the phone?”

  “Avery. Here. Come sit down.” He guided her to a chair at the table. “Let me dish up some soup for you.”

  “The housekeeper always keeps the pantry fully stocked, although I’m not sure who eats half the food. But I’m pretty sure we won’t starve while we’re here.”

  “I’ll check it out and see what we can find for dinner.” He found a bowl in one of the cupboards, filled it with soup, and placed it on the table with a spoon.

  His smile threatened to curl her toes.

  “Chef Logan’s award-winning chicken noodle soup for you.”

  She stared at him, eyes wide. “You really made this?”

  He shrugged. “Everyone needs a hobby. A long time ago I discovered fiddling with recipes was the best stress reliever I could find. I always have stuff in my freezer. I figured with the way things were going this might just be what you need.”

  She would have kissed him if she wasn’t so stressed out, and worried what he might think. Or not think. Instead she just wet her bottom lip, gave him a smile, and whispered, “Thank you.”

  The soup was everything he said it would be—just a tad spicy and loaded with tender chunks of chicken and broad noodles.

  “Okay, what did Avery say?”

  He sat down at the table at an angle to her. “Please promise me you will not freak.”

  “Oh, God.” She dropped her spoon in the bowl. “Don’t you know that’s guaranteed to make me freak?”

  “Sorry.” He captured her free hand with his warm one. “Just take a breath, okay?”

  She drew in a deep breath and let it out, willing herself not to shake. “Okay. Let’s have it.”

  “The divers salvaged several pieces in the water. Devon, they found a few small remnants of a timer. That boat was blown up on purpose.”

  For a desperate moment, Devon was afraid the small amount of soup she’d eaten would come back up in a rush. She swallowed hard and took another breath.

  “Blown up. With a bomb.”

  “Yes. Avery tried to get all the pieces so she could get her people on it, but the Coast Guard claimed it. Deering promised Sheri and Avery to get them info as fast as he could.”

  “Can they trace anything with as little as they have?”

  Logan shrugged. “Sometimes that’s all you need. It depends. But we’re on top of it, I promise you.”

  “Logan, you know what that means?”

  “It means a couple of things. I don’t believe your dad blew up his own boat. Either whoever is controlling our favorite thugs did it to send him a message, or there’s a third player in the game and we don’t know who that is.”

  “God.” She closed her eyes and rubbed her face. “This just gets worse and worse.”

  “But at least we’re collecting more threads
to pull.” The smile he gave her took the edge off her nerves. “And the crew outside is almost finished with the new security system. At least we won’t have to worry about people sneaking up on us here. By the time your soup is gone, they’ll be ready for me to give you the tour. Now eat, and that’s an order.”

  Finishing the soup was no hardship. So Logan was a cook. She’d never have imagined that. She guessed everyone had their own surprises. If he was this good, maybe she could talk him into cooking for them while he was here. Lord knew her own culinary skills left much to be desired. Whatever she ate had one requirement, easy and fast to fix.

  She had just finished the last spoonful when the landline rang again, startling her. She dropped the spoon in her bowl with a clatter and stared at the offending instrument.

  Logan wrapped his fingers around her wrist. “Don’t answer that.”

  “Don’t worry. I have no intention of it.”

  He lifted the receiver and barked, “Hello?” Pause. “Hello? Listen, if you have something to say, spit it out. Otherwise quit calling.” Another pause. “Hello? Okay, we’re done.”

  He placed the receiver back in the cradle with a deliberate motion.

  “Was that—”

  “An asshole who thinks he can intimidate you.”

  She chuffed an unsteady laugh. “He’s not far from wrong.”

  “Don’t worry about him. I’ll take care of it.” Logan looked at her soup bowl. “Good. Come on, I’ll show you what’s going on.”

  She carried her empty bowl to the sink, rinsed it, and stuck it in the dishwasher. When Logan took her hand to lead her outside, she didn’t protest. His hand was strong and warm and the contact made her feel more secure than she had since she’d received the first call about her father.

  The same vans were still parked in front of the house, the men in jeans and black Vigilance T-shirts busy with whatever they were doing. She wondered for a crazy moment if she’d fallen into a reality television show where all the men dressed in black. God! What was wrong with her mind?