Colby Control

by Debra Webb

  Removing the earpiece and stuffing it into her pocket as she hustled in the target’s direction, she understood that it would take Tallant mere seconds to spot her and realize what she was up to.

  Timing was everything.

  If she got to Vandiver first, Tallant would have no choice but to back off, however reluctantly, and allow her move to play out.

  But if he intercepted her before she reached the target…she was done. He would have her on a plane back to Chicago first thing in the a.m., and by the p.m. she would be facing a Colby firing squad.

  Nora didn’t get another good breath until she was right on Vandiver’s tail. So close she could smell his exclusive cologne.

  She had counted on him being early.

  Matching his pace, she moved up beside him and slid her arm around his. “Hello, Doctor.” She smiled. His eyes widened with uncertainty. “Let’s find a nice, quiet place.”

  She guided him toward the pool deck and small adjoining café du Parc. The spot came with a phenomenal view of the Eiffel Tower and plenty of distractions to avoid drawing attention.

  A waiter cruised by and Nora ordered drinks.

  “I thought you would be a—” Vandiver cleared his throat “—a man.”

  Nora smiled. “Don’t be fooled, Dr. Vandiver. I’m very good at what I do.”

  As in the photo included with his dossier, Vandiver looked young for his age. Not a sign of gray in his full head of hair and not one wrinkle on his tanned face. She imagined that he kept a personal supply of Botox, along with a state-of-the-art tanning bed. No wasted time at a spa for this man.

  He glanced around nervously. “I’m not sure how to begin.”

  Nora waited until he’d made eye contact once more. “I’m certain you explained your needs to my employer. I’ll require the photo and the cash, as promised.” He reached for the briefcase at his feet as she continued. “We’ll review the most relevant details.”

  He passed the briefcase to her. “It’s all there,” he said. The line would have been cliché if not for the fact that this was clearly his first time being involved in a deal such as this. He was far too nervous to be anything but a novice. “The photo’s there, too.”

  A quick peek at the photo confirmed that his wife, Heather, was the mark. Confusion lined Nora’s brow as she glanced at the envelope containing the cash. Not exactly a beefy bundle.

  She set the case at her feet, then scooted it forward, out of sight under the table. “You’re sure the money is right?” A guy like him could surely afford the best when it came to hiring a hit man—or woman—for the job of offing his wife.

  “Yes.” His head moved up and down with enough momentum to make the single word quiver. “Five thousand, just as I was instructed. The rest when…the job is completed.”

  A ten-thou hit? She wouldn’t even take the job for that price and she wasn’t exactly a specialist in the field of assassination.

  Whatever. “All right then.”

  The waiter arrived with their drinks. She smiled in dismissal and he hurried away without the usual barrage of questions about appetizers and such.

  “Let’s go over the details,” she suggested.

  He reached for his glass but apparently changed his mind and dropped his hand back into his lap. “I’m in love.”

  Oh, yeah. She really wanted to hear this. Before she could tell him that it wasn’t necessary to divulge an account of his infidelity, he continued.

  “I know it’s wrong.” His chest puffed, then deflated with a long, deep breath. “But my wife is…indifferent to me. She has been for years.”

  Cry me a river. “There’s always divorce,” she said before she could recall the words.

  Those bedroom blue eyes searched hers. Ironically she couldn’t deny the pain she saw in his. “I know. But she refuses to discuss that option.” This time he grabbed his glass and downed a hefty portion of the Scotch. She’d ordered what he appeared to prefer based on what she’d observed in the bar earlier.

  In an effort to put him at ease, she sipped her wine, then asked, “The property state laws?”

  He set his drink aside, those long, perfect fingers still curled around the glass. His hands looked soft and delicate. She doubted he had ever manicured a lawn or even washed his six-figure vehicle.

  “I don’t know why that would be an issue,” he denied with a shake of his head. “She knows I’m more than willing to give her half of everything. It belongs to her as much as it does to me.”

  Nora was utterly confused now. But whatever. “Would you like any input on how this goes down?”

  Even Botox couldn’t prevent the line that formed between his eyebrows. “I’m…not sure what you mean.” He downed another gulp of Scotch. “I’ve never done this before. Hired someone…like you, I mean.”

  Tell me something I don’t know. “Are there activities in which your wife regularly participates? Particularly any ones that carry significant risk? Places she goes routinely? Is she prone to accidents? A reckless or careless driver?”

  “Oh.” The word echoed with mounting confusion. This guy really was nervous. “I think I see what you’re getting at.”

  Nora doubted it.

  Three tables behind Vandiver a new guest settled into a chair.

  Tallant.

  Fury radiated all the way across the expanse separating him from Nora.

  She flashed him a triumphant smile and redirected her attention to Vandiver.

  “Yoga and Pilates are on Mondays and Thursdays,” he recited. “She takes an art class on Wednesdays.” He stared at the glass he was turning with those skilled surgeon’s fingers. “The spa on Friday. She says it relaxes her.” He shrugged. “She’s not involved with any groups or even friends. That I know of.”

  “That may work to our advantage,” Nora offered to keep the conversation going.

  “Look…” Vandiver studied Nora, his expression pinched with uncertainty and pain, as if he were about to break down. “I suppose I’m not allowed to know your name. But I’ve done everything I know to do and nothing makes her happy. She just won’t be satisfied. I think she wants me to suffer.” He looked away. “At least that’s what I thought until a few days ago.”

  Something was wrong here, besides the obvious that the man intended to hire someone to kill his wife. “What happened a few days ago?”

  “She changed.” His gaze lit on Nora’s once more. “Suddenly I couldn’t do anything wrong. I was perfect. She insisted we go out to dinner at a place where the friends we used to have go out. She couldn’t keep her hands off me. Bragged to everyone she saw how wonderful I was and how our anniversary was approaching.”

  “Maybe she’s decided that the marriage is worth salvaging?” Nora had never met the woman but his story didn’t mesh with someone so certain that her husband intended to kill her.

  He sighed. “I wish I could believe that.”

  “You would be willing to attempt an amicable resolution?” Now that was straight-up bizarre.

  Annoyance sent his eyebrows into a collision over the bridge of his nose. “Haven’t you been listening? Of course I would be! This is beyond insane! I go to sleep next to her every night terrified that I won’t wake up the next morning. Do you have any idea how incredibly difficult that is?”

  Though she wouldn’t tell him as much, she actually did. Five years ago she’d been in exactly that position. Right here in Vegas in fact.

  “I’m certain it’s very difficult.” Time to cut to the chase. “That’s why we’re here tonight.”

  He nodded. “I can’t live with the uncertainty anymore.” He squared his shoulders. “That’s why I decided to take action. My friend, the only one I have left, is an attorney and he suggested I take this route.”

  Nora blinked. She couldn’t have heard that part correctly. “You discussed this with your attorney?” Was the man out of his mind?

  “Certainly.” His expression provided clear evidence that he had no idea why she consider
ed the step so strange. “I don’t do anything without consulting my attorney first. I have too much to lose.”

  “Your attorney advised you to take this step.” She needed to make absolutely certain they were talking about the same thing. “To hire someone like me.”

  “He insisted. She’s left me no choice. I can’t keep living this way.”

  Nora resisted the impulse to throw her hands up in surrender and to look for the hidden cameras. This had to be a joke. An episode of some bad reality show.

  Vandiver leaned forward, glanced around, then whispered, “This is not only terrifying, but it’s humiliating.”

  She supposed she could see that. What man wouldn’t be afraid of getting caught hiring an assassin to murder his wife? Likewise, what man, an elite surgeon at that, would want the world to know that he couldn’t control his own wife?

  “I understand, Dr. Vandiver.” She forced her expression into one of understanding. “Why don’t we move on to the final stage of our strategy and put this behind us once and for all.”

  He straightened, glanced around again at the other patrons, as if he feared everyone around him understood exactly what he was up to. “I want her watched 24/7. As soon as you’ve confirmed what I believe she’s up to, then we’ll take the next step.”

  Nora nodded despite the fact that she didn’t understand why he wanted to put off the inevitable. What was the point?

  “My friend, the attorney, has a close contact in the D.A.’s office. We’ll take your findings to him and he’ll take care of the rest.”

  Nora’s hands went up stop-sign fashion before her brain could suppress the action. “The D.A., as in the district attorney?”

  “It’s the only way to stop her,” he argued, his voice a harsh whisper. “If she’s trying to kill me, that’s conspiracy to commit murder.”

  Shock radiated through Nora’s bones. Okay. She had to proceed with caution here. This was not at all how she’d expected this conversation to go. “You have evidence that your wife is planning to or attempting to kill you? Is that what you’re saying to me?”

  Huddling close again, he whispered, “There was a gas leak in our home. The repairman said the valve couldn’t have come loose on its own.”

  The gas leak.

  “Were you home?” His wife had insisted he had gone to work, that she was the one left at home to perish.

  “I was supposed to be at home that day,” he explained without another covert look around. “But one of my patients had complications. I had to spend the entire morning at the hospital.”

  “Anything else?” Nora recognized the disbelief in her voice; she only hoped he didn’t.

  “The brakes went out in our car,” he shared. “The mechanic said the line had been tampered with.”

  “Is that the car you drive to work?” Nora dared a glance in Tallant’s direction. He was not going to believe this.

  “Generally,” he confirmed, “but that week she needed the car and I drove the SUV.”

  “So,” Nora continued, “any other instances you believe are relevant?”

  He shook his head.

  “Perhaps your wife is trying to kill herself.” Sounded that way to Nora. She had the brakes tampered with in the car, the one he generally drove, and then she needed the car. If she had prompted the gas leak, after he’d left for work, she could certainly have taken care of it.

  He shook his head again. “No. I’m telling you,” he reiterated, “my wife is trying to kill me.”

  Chapter Six

  11:50 p.m.

  “Rockford’s running a check on all Heather Vandiver’s communications the past three months,” Ted informed Friedman. “He’s checking with a contact on where she’s been according to her vehicle’s GPS. That probably won’t help but it will let us know if she’s been going someplace regularly that isn’t in her usual routine.”

  Friedman had stripped off the high heels but still wore the supertight outfit. “Rocky’ll find out what she’s been up to.” She jerked her head toward the wall separating her room from his, where they’d tucked Dr. Vandiver for now. “If she’s got plans for her cheating husband, he’ll get the truth out of her.”

  Ted wasn’t sure that was a good thing. The Equalizers were known for tactics, especially during a critical situation, that fell somewhat below Colby Agency standards of interrogation. “Ms. Soto should be here in the next five minutes.”

  “That should be interesting.” Friedman settled on one end of the elegant sofa that served as the focal point for the sitting room.

  “That’s your cue to go next door,” Ted reminded, fully aware that she knew the strategy they had discussed. He’d learned really fast that she liked pushing the limits—his limits in particular.

  “You sure you can handle her alone?” Friedman asked as she pushed to her feet once more. “She could be involved in all this beyond being the other woman. There’s always the chance she’s on the edge. Dangerous maybe.”

  The only danger Ted could see was the one right in front of him. “You keep Vandiver company. I’ll take care of interrogating the lady.”

  Friedman arrowed him a skeptical look. “Lady?”

  Ted opened the door and jerked his head toward the corridor. “I’ll be watching,” he reminded. “Don’t do or say anything you’ll regret.”

  Friedman strolled toward the open door but paused directly in front of him. “Who’s going to watch you?” she asked in a throaty voice that made him think of hot sex.

  Before he could dredge up a response, she was out the door.

  What was up with this sudden fascination he had with looking at her? With inventorying her every asset? Since she’d started showing up at the office, he’d been able to ignore how she looked…for the most part.

  Had to be post-traumatic stress syndrome. Spending more than twenty-four hours with her had clearly had an adverse effect.

  Ted secured the door and moved to the wet bar, where he’d set up his laptop. While Friedman had persuaded Vandiver to relocate to the room next to hers, Ted’s room, he had installed the necessary surveillance devices to keep watch on the allegedly worried doctor.

  The sound was muted since Soto was due to arrive any moment. Ted watched as Vandiver opened the door and Friedman glided into the room. The woman’s movements were as fluid as fragrant oil slipping over bare skin. Ted shook his head. How had he not noticed that before? Working too hard to avoid her, he supposed.

  The woman was good. He had to give her that. Not only had she trumped him by going straight to Vandiver when he’d ordered her not to, but she had somehow persuaded him to buy into her cover one hundred percent. Now that was talent.

  That whole deception thing again.

  How did a man ever trust a woman like that?

  Friedman had convinced Vandiver that her people were looking into his concerns regarding his wife while she would serve as his personal protection—no extra charge. Vandiver had bought the story without a second’s hesitation. He appeared genuinely desperate to know the truth. Just as desperate as his wife had when she’d contacted Victoria about her husband. Rockford was, thus far, equally convinced that the wife was legitimately concerned for her own wellbeing.

  Victoria had been brought up to speed on this latest turn of events. She, too, was puzzled and had assured Ted that she would do some follow-up of her own.

  His gut instinct was sounding a distant alarm. This looked more and more like a game of bait and switch. Lure the attention in one direction while the real trouble went down in the other.

  The only question was, who was playing the game?

  A rap on the door drew him in that direction and away from surveillance of the activities next door. Friedman had proven she could take care of herself.

  But then…that was precisely why he should be worried.

  The blonde at the door wore the same tailored black suit she’d worn earlier on the gaming floor. Her eyes were wide with worry. “Where’s Brent?” She cleared her
throat. “Dr. Vandiver. I checked his suite. He’s not there. I tried calling his cell but it went straight to voice mail. Is he all right?”

  “Come in, Ms. Soto.”

  She checked the corridor on either side of her, then moved quickly into the room. He could understand her anxiety, but did she have reason to fear someone might be watching?

  He’d soon find out.

  “We talked earlier this evening,” she said, turning to face Ted. “I thought you were a guest…just visiting.” She made no attempt to disguise the accusation in her voice.

  Whatever she knew or thought, her anxiety and concern were genuine.

  “That’s correct,” he said, gesturing to the sofa, “in part.”

  She perched on the edge of the sofa. “I don’t understand. Where is Brent?”

  To put her at ease, Ted took a seat in the chair to her left. “He’s safe.”

  Camille Soto blinked. “What does that mean? Was there an accident? He said he had a meeting.”

  “If there had been an accident,” Ted offered evenly, “the police would be speaking to you now.”

  Her stiff posture relaxed marginally.

  “Are you aware that Dr. Vandiver and his wife are in a bit of an awkward situation?” He didn’t want to feed her information. He wanted her to spill what she knew or suspected.

  “Yes.” Her voice trembled. “We…we’ve been having an affair for several months now. He said his wife refused to give him a divorce.”

  Ted picked up a document from the table that stood between them. “Did he also tell you—” he pretended to review the page “—that he intended to be rid of her one way or another?” Ted zeroed his scrutiny in on the lady. “That he’d hired someone.”

  Her hands fidgeted in her lap. “Certainly not. He would never even think such a thing. That’s something his wife would do. She’s unstable.”

  “The two of you have met?” The wife hadn’t said anything about confronting or meeting the other woman. Interesting that she would opt to leave such a significant fact out of the background material she had provided to Victoria.