“Our system picks up the access connection, but the path to the other end linked to a public computer, in an internet cafe.”
“That’s very nondescript.”
Clive glared at Martin as if he was stupid, but offered no further insight.
“Care to tell me what information the person obtained?”
“All of it, whatever was there,” Clive said. “Access means access.”
Fed up, Martin left without further comment. As if the situation couldn’t get worse. Beth obtained any information she damned well pleased, and she had ill feelings toward her uncle. He wasn’t delusional enough to think that she wouldn’t use every shred of evidence she could get her hands on. The unsettling part was he didn’t know what she had found out.
Kyle wasn’t in yet, so Martin was spared having to speak to him. His own office, formerly his brother’s, provided an inner sanctum where he could fortify his nerves. He felt anxious, and the encounter with IT had made him irritable.
He needed a bump to get him through the day, so he locked the door and retrieved his stash. At his desk, he moved the glass tube over the line of powder and snorted. The drug burned like hell as it went up his nose, and he swore. Maybe he needed to find a more respectable dealer, because it felt like the drug had been cut with some chemical, the way it set his nostrils on fire. Imbecile—couldn’t his dealer produce pure stuff? He certainly compensated him well enough.
Martin leaned back in the chair and closed his eyes. Energy drove through his veins and a spike of euphoria shot up his spine. The morning looked more promising. He could conquer his enemies. Not one of them could thwart his shot at success.
His niece didn’t know what kind of man he really was; she’d underestimated him. Plus, he had power behind him. His mobster friends backed him all the way, and would do business with him well into the future. Thoughts of the amount of money he’d soon amass chased away the blues. He couldn’t be dragged down; he was too clever for all of them.
After locking up his precious cocaine, Martin emerged from his office and strolled down the hallway. He was taller, and there was a bounce to his step. Walking around the corner, he saw Susan at her desk. She was dressed well, every hair in place, as though she didn’t have a care in the world.
As he passed the window, Susan called to him, “Are you leaving?”
Martin walked into her office. He loomed above the desk, asserting his authority, and her expression became suitably respectful. “I have to get out of this damned place before it swallows me up,” he said. “Besides, I have business to take care of.”
Susan frowned and pushed back her chair. “Do you want me to respond to the letter from the DEA, or set up an inspection time?”
“What I want you to do,” Martin said, pointing a finger at her, “is stall.”
“I could ask Kyle to reply. It looks like a standard letter, and might be a routine inspection,” Susan said. “I don’t expect any more than that. Do you?”
“Just put it aside. I’ll take care of it.” Martin had no idea how he was going to do that, but he couldn’t deal with it right then.
“Yes, sir.” Susan went back to work, so he left.
*****
The casino provided a welcome respite. Martin’s evenings were an improvement over his days, and often he didn’t wait for nightfall. Any time of day was a good time to rake in winnings. He could win big with the sun still high in the sky. He couldn’t see it from the gaming tables anyway.
The alcohol combined with the drugs in his system, giving him that extra boost. Martin looked at the woman on his arm, unable to remember her name. He was confident about rolling the dice, and was about to win big.
He was sick of all the recent harassment. But at the club, the press couldn’t get to him. He’d been hounded for a statement about that blasted subway accident. Hell, he hadn’t ordered that idiot to try to kill anyone. It wasn’t right that he had to answer for it.
He’d refused any statement. The last thing he needed was for the media to run with a story that connected him to the crime. If he steered clear of them, the fervor would die down. The entire incident had been a big mistake, that was all.
But now the feds were snooping around at Foster, nosing into Martin’s territory. It was fine for Susan to quip about it being a routine inspection. There was no such thing. When the DEA came sniffing around, there was a reason.
Yet the agency couldn’t know of his new arrangement. Martin had been careful, and planned to proceed in that vein. He couldn’t afford any errors. But that wasn’t going to happen. There was no cause to fret about a screw-up that wasn’t going to occur.
The mob ran a tight ship, and Martin had followed their instructions. Chen had few redeeming qualities, but one of them was that he was very clear about procedure. No wonder the Asian gangsters had amassed so much wealth.
Martin scooped his winnings to his side of the board, and the blonde on his arm grinned. Then Chen appeared, ruining his run of luck. “Excuse yourself. It’s an emergency.”
Christ, what now?
The mobster led him to a table at the back of the cocktail lounge, where it was dark enough to be invisible. Bourbon was served, and Chen took a belt of it. Martin was wired from the few drinks he’d had earlier, so he twirled his glass on the table, dreading what was next.
“Your niece hasn’t been home for days,” Chen said. “It’s beginning to frustrate my men. Do you have any idea where she is?”
“How would I know?” Martin was livid about Beth hassling them so much. She was going to get him killed.
“You’ve been careless.”
“What are you talking about?” Did Chen know that Beth had accessed company records? That seemed impossible, since Martin hadn’t coughed up that tidbit yet.
“Beth went to visit your brother Stephen.”
Martin’s heart pounded. “Weren’t you keeping an eye on the place? That was your perfect opportunity.”
“Her bodyguard was with her. He did some tricky stunt in a sports car, and lost my team. It’s too bad the fatal blow was derailed.”
Martin wanted to reach across the table and squeeze the breath out of Chen. “How many times are your guys going to botch things?”
The veins on Chen’s neck stood out. “Watch it…remember who you’re talking to.”
I know who I’m talking to…an incompetent fool. But he didn’t dare say it.
“That chase isn’t what concerns us now,” Chen said. “Elizabeth has stumbled across your cover-up. The nurse informed us that a new doctor has been assigned to the case. It won’t be long before your niece learns the truth, and you’ll have to come up with some convincing answers.”
“Like what?” Martin was mad enough to wring Beth’s neck. She had to screw everything up just when it was going so well for him. She hated him; she always had.
Chen was silent, and Martin squirmed. The mobster downed the rest of his drink, then said, “Mr. Zhang is displeased by all these fuckups. He’s made it clear that it’s time for him to take matters into his hands.” He leaned close. “You haven’t been able to handle things on your own, and the entire operation is at risk.”
Not to mention Martin’s life. “What does he propose?”
“He has requested a private meeting with you.”
Was this it, then? The boss was going to bump him off, put an end to all of this? Martin didn’t think so, but his gut was riddled with anxiety. The mob had too much invested, and wasn’t about to throw it away. The operation would go forward, and despite the petty annoyances, there was no real barrier to their ultimate success.
Except for one—Beth.
*****
The meeting with Mr. Zhang was scheduled without delay, and took place less than a day later. As usual, Martin did as he was told, and arrived on time. He stood in front of the hotel as instructed, and a black limo picked him up. The boss was already in the back seat. The meeting was held in the vehicle while the driver negotiated the city’s traffic.
Zhang’s appearance was menacing, even more than Martin recalled. His beady black eyes, sparse eyebrows, and balding head gave him a street thug look. He was pudgy, yet wore an expensive suit that strained at the seams. His hands were covered with gold rings, some studded with gems. He was the enforcer, a role that meant he ran the mob’s New York operations. If he issued an order, it was followed, as the consequence for disobedience was death—no warnings, no second chances.
Thus, when the man spoke, Martin listened.
“I’m weary of the uninitiated botching the kill.”
Martin recognized the label uninitiated as a term used for new members of the Asian mob who hadn’t proven themselves yet.
“Elizabeth Foster has caused us enough headaches, and she has to die. Don’t you agree?” Expecting no dissension, Zhang continued, “Sometimes you have to do things yourself.”
Yet the mobster’s idea of doing it himself was certain to mean having Martin perpetrate the dirty deed.
“I have a man in mind, an assassin who knows his business and will get the job done. There will be no more screw-ups—he won’t miss,” Zhang said, then relayed the details of how to hire the services of this professional. “It’s over to you now. This man won’t be cheap; the best costs money.”
Martin balked. Once he hired an assassin, it would be the same as if he’d killed Beth himself. But if she wasn’t stopped, his life wouldn’t be worth a nickel. His only way out of the entire mess was to make sure the smuggling operation went off without a hitch.
It was Beth’s life—or his.
*****
It took Martin a couple of days to get the money together. He’d drained his resources, so had to get creative. But this was crucial; he couldn’t afford to blow it. He had no compunction about stealing the money—this was a matter of life and death.
It was just a loan, and soon enough, Martin would be able to repay it.
Even though he was way out of his depth, there was no turning back. But once Beth was out of the way, there would be no one to stop him. There was still the matter of his brother Stephen, but he wasn’t likely to recover from the effect of those drugs anytime soon. And when and if that did happen, Martin would think of something. He’d successfully manipulated his brother before, and was sure he could do so again.
While he waited in a hotel suite for the call, Martin paced. He was keyed up and couldn’t seem to relax. What he needed was a little tweak, just a taste of the stuff, but he’d not dared bring any with him. Zhang would have his head if he got caught with drugs in his possession while making this important connection.
The threat of immediate execution had gotten his attention, so Martin suffered the agony of withdrawal. It wouldn’t be long, and the contract would be concluded. Then he could get back to his life, get the boost he needed, and hang out at the casino.
When the phone rang twice, Martin almost jumped out of his skin. He picked up the receiver and there was a dial tone. It was the prearranged signal. He picked up the brown envelope and went to the door of the suite adjacent to his. Trying to appear normal, Martin glanced around. There were no other guests in the hallway. After he slipped the envelope under the door, he returned to his room.
It freaked him out to think of the assassin right next door. The man was a killer, and would as soon snuff out Martin’s life as anyone’s. He closed the safety lock on his door, although it provided little comfort. This was a man who got the job done, so it was best to stay on his good side. Anyway, there was no way that Martin could bail now.
The envelope had contained photos of Elizabeth and other details that had been required. It should be everything the killer needed. This was it; the end of his niece’s pursuit of him. Soon she’d be dead. It was a gloomy thought, yet somehow exhilarating.
Martin had power, and he was on top, the ultimate winner. Beth should have backed off while she still had the chance.
The phone rang again, and Martin picked up and heard a voice muffled by some electronic device. He demanded that full payment for his services be deposited in the overseas account before the job was done. Martin supposed that these days a professional didn’t tolerate any doubt that he’d deliver. If the man took the assignment, the terms would be fulfilled. Martin wasn’t inclined to debate with a man like that. Once the assassin was satisfied that the money would show up in the designated account by the following day, the line went dead.
Martin sagged into a chair, frozen to the spot, close to throwing up. The contract had been sealed; he was now responsible for Beth’s murder—and the mob’s hands were clean.
Chapter 18
After her brother checked in at the hotel, Beth went home with Wyatt. She ventured into the condo with trepidation, as the enemy had encroached too far into her life. Her personal space didn’t exist anymore. It seemed no part of her life was sacred. Plus, Kyle and her father were at risk too.
Beth’s house was as she’d left it, and she was grateful for the safe oasis. Wyatt checked each room thoroughly, looking in closets and scanning for bugs. It was a relief that he was vigilant, so she didn’t have to be. At the moment, she wasn’t sure that she would have been up to it.
Once Wyatt assured her that the place was secure, Beth said, “I’m exhausted; it’s been quite a day…actually, quite a week. I’m going to take a hot shower and unwind.”
She left Wyatt scrolling on his phone, likely following up on some details. But she couldn’t muster the strength to care. Although she’d assured her brother that she had the situation under control, she’d overstated the case.
Beth went to the bathroom and shed her clothes. She waited for the shower to warm up, then stepped in. The spray drenched her, and she relaxed a little under the hot water. She was worried, and thought of her brother. He wasn’t as adaptable to danger as she was.
And when had she developed that skill? Beth’s life had been sheltered. Until a short time ago, danger hadn’t reared its head. It was a condition that she hadn’t dreamed she’d face. Then circumstances had changed without warning.
Now what was she supposed to do? The nonstop threats had eroded her confidence. In Wyatt’s capable hands, she’d defied several attempts on her life, escaped crooks in a car chase, and rescued her brother from a treacherous situation. She couldn’t imagine what the next day held.
Her father would get the assistance he needed, and that meant a lot. She needed to stop thinking of her own trauma and focus on others. Without her detective work, and now Kyle’s backup, her father’s demise wouldn’t have been far off. She shuddered to think of what might have become of him.
It seemed like a stroke of luck that she’d sensed something was amiss, then discovered her father’s cryptic message. Grief stabbed at her heart over the prospective loss of her dear father. If only she’d been aware of his circumstances sooner.
By tomorrow, her father would be in good hands, free of her uncle’s clutches. But it would take more than that. If anything happened to Beth, her father would be at his brother’s mercy—a horrific thought indeed.
Beth finished her shower, then dried her hair and put on jeans with a light sweater. She needed a glass of wine to help her put aside her worries for a few hours. That shouldn’t be too much to ask. There was a lot to deal with, and disaster loomed. Refreshed, she’d be in much better shape, so when all hell broke loose she’d stand a chance.
Beth found Wyatt in the living room sipping on a can of soda. “I need something stronger than that.” She went to the wine cooler, and retrieved a bottle of white wine. She opened the Pinot Gris and poured a glass, then went back to sit with Wyatt.
She looked over, noticing that Wyatt had showered too. His hair was still damp, a sexy look for him. His jaw was strong, and his lips were so kissable. She liked that he’d left a little scruff on his jaw; it was so masculine. He wore faded jeans and a tight cotton shirt that hugged his chest.
One look at him sent a tingle over her skin. Wyatt didn’t have to do much to ar
ouse her; just the sight of him stirred her desire. At the hotel, he’d made love to her with such passion it had left her breathless. Beth wanted him again, and doubted that he would turn her away.
If there was a silver lining to her life being topsy-turvy, it was Wyatt. Running from danger, Beth had gone to him, like she had so many times in the past. Once again, he’d willingly come to her rescue, and was intent on protecting her. He cared, and had stuck his neck out for her without fear for his own safety. That was one thing about him that hadn’t changed.
But greedy as she was, Beth wanted more from him. She wanted his heart. Did she have a right to ask that of him? Wyatt was there to thwart attacks against her, and she’d grown to rely on him. Yet she looked to him for more than safety; he was the one man who satisfied her.
If Beth had made a list of qualities she looked for in a man, Wyatt would fit the bill. He was a hunk to start with, but he was fun, kind, loving…need she go on? She was hooked on him. If only it was meant to be.
But their lives were so different, and Wyatt was with her only temporarily. He had no inclination to return to the city permanently, or to offer his talents to his family’s business.
Beth sipped her wine, studying the gorgeous man across from her.
Wyatt put his soda can on the table and looked into her eyes. His gaze locked with hers, and Beth forgot to breathe. He didn’t have to say anything. When his eyes roamed over her, Beth’s body responded. Heat surged deep in her core, making her weak in a delicious way.
When Wyatt reached out his hand, Beth took it. He drew her onto his lap and kissed her deeply. There was nowhere else in the world that she wanted to be. Just to be in his arms, with his soft lips pressed to hers, was enough. For a brief interlude, Beth was with him.
In that moment, Wyatt was hers. Beth couldn’t bear to think of him leaving, so instead she kissed him harder, deeper. And he reciprocated, digging his hands into her hair, then tipped her head back. He devoured her, kissed her along the column of her neck, nibbled her earlobe, and delved his tongue into her mouth, lashing against hers.
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