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Committed Page 18

by Velvet Vaughn


  "If she hadn’t screwed up, we would have had her last night. Now when we do take her, we need to make sure the toxins are out of her bloodstream. And we need her pregnant sooner rather than later."

  Too bad he didn’t handle these things himself. Though mentally troubled, Kellie Mead had a knockout figure.

  He knew just the man for the job.

  Chapter Eighteen

  "Benny, hold up a minute."

  Ben stopped in his tracks and rotated slowly, a fake smile plastered on his face. Dammit, just a few more steps and he would have been gone before Arthur Michaels could sink in his claws.

  "What’s up?"

  "I have a meeting to attend and I would very much like it if you could accompany me, be my driver."

  He narrowed his gaze. Funny, he didn’t recall chauffeur duties listed on his job description. He wondered why he was being asked.

  "I’m not certain of this person’s motives and I would like backup in case anything…negative transpires."

  There it was - the reason.

  "Uh, sure, no problem."

  Michaels nodded, relieved. "Good. Thank you. I’ve also asked one of the attendants to accompany us on the trip. He’s a former bodyguard so he can provide extra muscle. Not that you need the help there, big guy," Michaels chuckled affably. He playfully cuffed Ben’s bicep.

  Ben fought the urge to use said bicep and crush the man in a head lock. Instead, he returned the gesture, punching him a little harder than necessary.

  Michaels winced.

  He covered his amusement. "Just say the word and I’m there."

  "Great," Michaels responded absently, casually rubbing his arm.

  "When?" he prompted.

  "Oh. Right. Tonight at 7:00 pm. I will have Dan come in early and cover the last hour of your shift."

  He said goodbye and waited until Michaels turned his back before he allowed the grin to break through. The man tried to act all tough and macho, but he was nothing but a spineless tyrant hiding behind a title and a wad of cash.

  Ben headed to the security office, wondering again why Michaels specifically requested his attendance. He recalled from Jake’s background check that Carl claimed previous bodyguard experience, so his involvement wasn’t totally suspect. Except that Carl was definitely involved in the disappearances.

  Unease coiled in his belly. Something big could be going down tonight if both Arthur and Carl were involved.

  He would be smack dab in the middle of the action.

  #

  The door whipped open right on schedule. Rachel remained perfectly still, eyes closed, breathing even. Footsteps clipped on the linoleum floor and she concentrated on not flinching when the nurse checked her pulse.

  Warm fingers brushed hair off her forehead. "If you can hear me, Kellie, I’m working on getting your sedatives reduced. You shouldn’t be drugged into unconsciousness."

  She recognized that voice. Jen.

  Her eyes started to open when another set of footsteps sounded in the hall. She stifled the urge to scream.

  Jen greeted the nurse who entered and moved aside as she checked the IV. Rachel managed not to jump when the needle slid out of her arm.

  "That was fast," Jen said approvingly.

  "Actually, Dr. Bexley ordered her medication decreased and the IV removed before he left this morning," the nurse explained.

  They chatted briefly while the nurse checked her blood pressure and heart rate.

  All too soon the voices faded.

  No Jen, don’t leave.

  Rachel wanted to scream. She couldn’t take it anymore. How was she supposed to find Molly if she couldn’t get out of bed?

  #

  Ben guided the sleek town car over deserted country roads, following the directions Michaels provided from memory. Carl reclined in the back seat, silent and surly.

  Ben couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling he had about this escapade. He didn’t have a chance to speak to Rachel before he left, but he did tell Peter and call Jake to give him a head’s up just in case.

  He wanted someone to know to look for his body if he didn’t return.

  He attached a GPS tracker to Michaels’ car and one of Jake’s microscopic cameras to his own jacket. Disguised as a button, the device would never be discovered.

  He managed to fasten a tracker to Frederick, Oscar and Carl’s vehicles as well. He wanted to chart their every movement. Maybe one of them would lead him to the missing patients.

  "Turn right."

  He maneuvered down a rutted, overgrown dirt road, the car bumping and lurching but the shocks on the luxury sedan cushioned the blows. "You sure this is the way?" he questioned skeptically. Anyone willing to meet this far out definitely did not have a productive working relationship on his mind.

  "It should just be up ahead," Michaels declared.

  The moonless sky lent an eerie, foreboding quality to the evening. They hadn’t passed another vehicle in the last half hour of the seventy-mile drive from the institution into Western New York.

  A raccoon darted in front of the car and froze, beady eyes reflecting red in the harsh glare of bright headlights. It scurried across the road, avoiding death at the last possible moment.

  Ben hoped he’d be as lucky tonight.

  The high beams alit on a clearing ahead, a small building visible on the horizon.

  "Here we are," Michaels announced.

  Ben rolled to a stop, dreading what he knew would not be a positive reception. He consoled himself with the knowledge that the camera would record every action and word.

  Jake would see justice done if anything happened to him.

  Carl alighted from the car first, his head darting in every direction.

  "Why don’t you check it out," Michaels suggested.

  His chest swelling with responsibility, Carl reached in his coat and withdrew a shiny revolver. Just what Ben didn’t need—Carl armed.

  Carl slunk forward to inspect the shack. Ben stepped out of the vehicle and mirrored Michaels’ position, his butt resting against the hood, arms crossed in front of his body. Somewhere overhead an owl screeched, its haunting cry slicing through the night like razor sharp talons. If he were superstitious, he’d consider it a portent of bad things to come.

  The chill in the air and the mysterious plot made him shiver. He stuck his hands in his pockets to warm them up. Michaels, he noted, had donned a pair of sleek leather gloves that probably cost more than Ben’s truck.

  "Ain’t no one here," Carl said, re-holstering his pistol as he stomped down the steps.

  "Oh, but there is something I wanted to show you," Michaels replied.

  Ben’s head turned in slow motion. It happened so suddenly, he barely had time to register the item Michaels pulled from his pocket.

  A gun.

  He fired two shots in rapid succession, double-tapping Carl squarely between the eyes.

  Carl was dead before his body hit the ground.

  "Holy shit," Ben exclaimed, reaching for his own weapon.

  Before he could whip it out and defend himself, Michaels rounded the car. "Ready to go, Smith?"

  He stared in shock. What the hell? Michaels just shot a man…killed him. He spared one last glance at Carl. No doubt the guy was dead, his sightless eyes staring at the dark, overcast sky, two small round holes directly in the center of his forehead. Now Arthur expected him to just get in the car and drive away pretending nothing happened?

  He considered arresting the man on the spot. They had him for first degree, premeditated murder, all on camera.

  But he was no longer an agent and besides, Ben Smith was supposed to be a cold-hearted bastard. Witnessing a murder would be nothing to him. If he arrested Michaels, the man would retain some fancy lawyer and plead out. They might not ever find out what happened to all those men and women. "Sure thing."

  He moved uneasily to the driver’s seat, keeping one eye on the road and the other on his dangerous passenger. He wanted to be sure the man didn
’t pull the weapon on him.

  "I guess I should have warned you," Michaels finally said. "I don’t like deceiving people, but I didn’t want Carl to suspect anything."

  Ben snorted in his head. He didn’t like deceiving people but he sure as hell didn’t mind blowing their brains out.

  "What’d Carl do, anyway?" Hey, it didn’t hurt to ask, right?

  Michaels paused, debating his answer. "He got out of control. He needed to be stopped."

  They drove a few miles when suddenly a flash bulb exploded in Ben’s head. Michaels told him he knew nothing about handguns, yet he fired two head shots with absolute precision into Carl’s brain. That was not beginner’s luck.

  Sonofabitch.

  Michaels’ next words confirmed his suspicions.

  "I suppose you are wondering how I landed a couple of perfect shots while claiming to know nothing about firearms."

  He glanced over at the man, the lights from the dashboard casting his features in a demonic glow.

  "Hadn’t given it a thought," he lied.

  Michaels pulled the revolver from his pocket and held it in the palm of his gloved hand. Even in the dim interior, there was no mistaking the walnut handle, stainless steel barrel.

  "This is straight from Oscar’s office. I have never handled this gun, Smith. The only foreign prints the authorities would find on the weapon would be yours."

  The bastard set him up. He planned on framing him for murder.

  He chuckled to himself. The camera on his jacket would tell a different story.

  "You don’t have to resort to blackmail to keep me in line," he gritted out, adding annoyance to his tone like the real Benny Smith would've done.

  "I like to keep something on each of my trusted employees, a little insurance, if you will."

  "Okay, so you set me up on a murder rap. That’s some pretty serious shit. Added to my background and I’m facing a hefty sentence in the slammer. The other inmates don’t take too kindly to sharing a cell with a cop, even a rogue one." Ben glanced at Michaels again before returning his attention to the road. "What is it you want from me?"

  "I want you to get Kellie Mead pregnant."

  Chapter Nineteen

  If Ben hadn’t been completely focused on navigating the narrow road, he would have plowed the car into a ditch.

  He concentrated on keeping the contents of his stomach settled. He felt Michaels studying him intently. He could not let his real reaction show. He managed a disbelieving grunt as he glanced across the seat. "You threaten to pin me with a murder rap and all you want me to do is screw some mental patient?" He shook his head. "Damn, you didn’t need to go to such extreme measures."

  "No, I didn’t have to, but I cover my bases," Michaels responded.

  Silence stretched and he shifted uncomfortably. He was renowned through the Bureau for his poker face but Michaels’ cold-blooded crime and subsequent directive had him dripping sweat. He thought about flipping on the air conditioner but that would surely draw the other man’s suspicions since the temperature outside hovered in the low forties.

  Needing to gain his complete confidence, he cracked a joke. He wasn’t even sure what he said but Michaels laughed heartily and just like that, the tension in the car eased.

  Somehow, he made it back to the Institute and kept up his end of the conversation. He needed air and if he didn’t get out of the car soon, away from Michaels’ incessant chatter, he might just blow.

  Somewhere along the drive, a profound sense of relief struck. Ben had no doubt that if Michaels hadn’t killed him, Carl would have been charged with impregnating Rachel.

  #

  "What the hell do you think you are doing, Michaels?"

  Arthur shrugged carelessly. "Carl was blackmailing us, threatened to go to the authorities if we didn’t pay him more money."

  Okay, technically, Carl only blackmailed him, but his partners didn’t need to know that. Carl was gone, along with his silly threats.

  A fist slammed against the desktop. "He never would have alerted the police. We had too much on him. We needed him."

  Arthur dropped to the sofa and clasped his hands behind his head. He met the gazes, one patronizing, the other superior, and laughed to himself. What these two asses didn’t know wouldn’t hurt them. They had no idea about the secret accounts he had in the Cayman Islands, or the staggering balance they carried. How Carl found out, Arthur had no idea, but he didn’t have to worry about the man’s threats anymore.

  Unless he came back as a poltergeist.

  Arthur chuckled at his joke.

  "What the hell is so funny you little piss-ant? Who the hell do you think you are? You are a peon in this venture yet you are single-handedly screwing with the entire operation."

  Arthur’s back stiffened and he dropped his arms, his hands balling into fists. "He’s replaceable," he ground out between clenched teeth.

  "Carl had been carefully screened, tests were performed, thousands of dollars were spent grooming him. He’s the one that destroys the patient files so no one knows they are missing and he’s the one that brings them to us."

  Arthur flinched as a glass flew by his head and crashed against the fireplace, shattering into a million tiny shards. "You can’t just go pull someone from the street. Do you realize what you've done?"

  Arthur inhaled deeply, biting back the response he wanted to give. They did not own him. He was an equal partner. "I already have his replacement."

  "That is not your decision to make."

  Arthur ignored the enraged outburst. "The man I found meets all the criteria."

  "You don’t even know the criteria, Arthur."

  Arthur’s eyes narrowed dangerously.

  "And just who is this so called replacement?"

  "Benny Smith, the new security guard."

  "Where do you get off hiring someone on your own? Every person we bring into the fold must be jointly approved."

  He knew that. But he needed someone he could control, and now that he had murder one on Smith, he could control him.

  Arthur tried to recruit Smith’s predecessor, knowing him to be less than scrupulous. But when Arthur explained what he needed done, the man balked. Where the hell did he get off suddenly developing ethics? Arthur laughed it off, said he was kidding, but he never could be sure the man believed him.

  It had been ridiculously easy to make his death appear accidental.

  His partners regarded him with keen eyes. He basked in the silence. They were realizing his genius.

  "What is his background?"

  Arthur smiled to himself. He baited the hook with a tasty worm, cast out the line, now he smoothly reeled the fish into shore.

  Anticipating the question on Smith’s prior experience, he pulled two manila envelopes from the briefcase at his feet and tossed them across the desk.

  His partners flipped through the pages, seemingly impressed with Smith’s less than stellar past. "Well, Smith is exceedingly handsome. He’s tall, muscular. Nice bone structure. He might do nicely."

  Arthur relaxed, his hands moving behind his head again. He smiled wickedly. He knew exactly what he was doing.

  "What did you tell him?"

  "Smith knows nothing. But I did give him a test, an initiation, if you will. I charged him with Carl’s last assignment."

  #

  The partners waited until Arthur left before discussing the situation. "What do you think about using Smith?"

  "Well, he is a prime candidate.” A pause, pondering the question. "He’s someone we might have picked ourselves. He’s tall, extraordinarily good-looking, muscular, physically fit. He seems intelligent enough, though his background is questionable. We haven’t run a profile on him, but judging from his outward appearance, he’s extremely healthy. I’d say he would pass with flying colors."

  "That’s not what I asked."

  A sigh. "I know."

  "I’ll tell you what I think," the partner offered. "At this point, it’s too risky. The few
er people we let into the operation, the better."

  Another silence. Finally, "I tend to agree. I don’t see it necessary that we bring anyone else into the fold. Besides, now that we are established, we don’t need assistance. We run like a well-oiled machine."

  "With Carl eliminated, that just leaves you, me and Arthur."

  The two watched from the window as Michaels swaggered across the parking lot, folded himself into his luxury car and motored away.

  "Arthur is a liability."

  "Yes. He’s completely out of control."

  "He could blow the entire operation out of the water."

  "What do we do about him?"

  "Eliminate him. Immediately."

  #

  Ben attached a microscopic camera to face the elevator doors and one down each basement wing. Earlier he attached one outside the loading dock.

  Tweaking the lens into place, he pulled out his cell phone, punched a few buttons and checked to make sure all the feeds worked. They did. Ben knew his way around computers but Peter was a freaking genius. Now they just had to wait for another person to disappear.

  He couldn’t sleep after the unsettling events of the previous evening. He wanted to corner Michaels, get the man to confess. He planned on questioning him more about his chilling edict to rape Rachel but he never showed up for work this morning. His secretary informed Ben that he called in sick.

  After checking the GPS on Michaels’ car, he discovered that he hadn’t left his home since late last night. Maybe he suffered from a bad case of guilty conscience. Yeah, right.

  Rachel was next on Ben’s agenda.

  He'd been keeping her sister, Ariana, up to date, letting her know Rachel was fine but unable to call. Ariana was worried but she was slowly trusting Ben.

  Making sure the coast was clear, he pushed open her door. Her eyes were closed and he felt a spurt of alarm that she had been drugged again. But then she cracked one lid and her eyes popped wide, lit with unabashed happiness.

 

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