by Webb, Debra
Jane insisted that the Colby Agency could help him. How the hell could some PI firm fix this mess when the bureau hadn’t been able to?
The answer was simple, they couldn’t.
He just wanted to believe this woman who’d barged into his life.
When had he gotten so stupid?
Maybe he was just tired.
Tired of fighting this battle of wills. The world would have been a better place if the old bastard had died long ago.
But he just kept on breathing.
Fury twisted in Troy’s gut.
He reached for the cell phone.
JANE PACED back and forth in the room. She should call Ian.
But there was nothing he could do.
If Benson was gone, he had too much of a head start to track him down. The rental would show up eventually. But he would be long gone.
She didn’t know the name of the contact he’d intended to meet. The Colby Agency could run the names of all known identity counterfeiters in the area…but that would take time.
Jane stopped. She was wasting time. Buying time, actually.
Part of her wanted to believe that Benson would come back. That he’d gone to meet his contact and would return to the room after he’d taken care of business.
Forty-five minutes and counting.
He wasn’t coming back.
She stalked over to the night table and picked up the phone.
The door opened, rammed against the security chain.
“It’s me.”
Relief rushed through her limbs.
She stamped over to the door and released the chain, swung the door open. “Where the hell have you been?”
He pushed past her, his arms loaded with bags.
She slammed the door and locked it. Calm down. Making a scene wasn’t going to get her any answers.
“I picked up some things we needed.”
“What things?”
“Clothes. Food.”
“You said you were going to order food.”
“No room service.” He picked through the bags, pulled out a T-shirt and jeans. “I wasn’t in the mood for pizza.” He tossed one of the bags across the bed toward her. “I hope I got the sizes right.”
She peeked into the bag. Jeans. T-shirt. Even underwear. Pink, frilly, very feminine. Exactly what she wouldn’t buy. There was also deodorant, toothpaste and a brush.
“Thanks.” The word was chock-full of frustration.
He settled his gaze on hers. “I guess I should’ve left you a note.”
“You think?” She grabbed her bag of goodies and stomped to the bathroom.
Her body heated the instant the satin panties settled against her skin. She looked down at herself. Flat stomach. Toned legs. She had the body for wearing stuff like this but she never did. Why bother?
Did he see her this way?
Her face flushed at the thought.
“Ridiculous.” She wrapped the bra around her torso and fastened it. The satin cupped her breasts as if he measured them with his own hands. Another shiver rippled through her. The T-shirt was a perfect fit. Same with the jeans. Maybe he’d assessed her physically more closely than she’d realized.
She put the deodorant and toothbrush to use. Her tongue slid across her teeth. Felt good to have clean teeth. And fresh undies.
Grabbing her dirty clothes, she exited the bathroom and shoved them into the trash can. She was fairly certain they were beyond help.
“Sandwich?”
He’d already made himself a bologna sandwich and was working on a second.
“Sure.” She plopped down on the bed where she’d tossed her purse.
He passed her a cold drink, then the sandwich. “You’re angry.”
“You should have told me.” She bit into the sandwich.
“I should’ve.”
She chewed, swallowed. “Why didn’t you?”
His gaze locked with hers. “I was going to call my contact. Pick up the ID and go.”
Jane tore off another bite of the sandwich and chewed it methodically. “Why didn’t you?”
“I don’t know.”
There was something different about him. A resignation she hadn’t seen before.
“Thanks for the clothes.” She pulled at the T-shirt. “I’ll pay you back.”
His gaze flicked from hers to her breasts.
“Don’t worry about it.” He took a long swallow of his soda.
She licked her lips hungrily. Told herself the abrupt glimmer of desire had nothing to do with watching him.
He set the can aside. “Tell me about this agency you work for.”
Anticipation quickened her pulse. “We find the truth. Help every client who comes through the door.”
“What levels of crime is your agency prepared to tackle?”
Jane laughed. “You name it. The Colby Agency has tackled it all. Our investigators come from all walks of life. Military. Bureau. The medical field.” She shrugged. “Every level of expertise. No case is too small or too large.”
“The other investigators—” he pulled his legs up onto the bed, propped against the headboard “—they’re like you? Well trained? Focused?”
“They’re the best. The very best.” She considered the man. He’d just given her an offhanded compliment. “We can help you. Whatever your story, the Colby Agency can find the answers you need.” Telling him she knew his story might not go over so well. It would be better if he made the decision to tell her.
“This contact,” he said, his attention on the television screen across the room, “he can provide me with a new identity. For the right price, he can also provide a permanent escape.”
“Permanent?” She had an inkling what he meant. Faking his death.
“Fiery car crash. Boating accident. There are several choices.”
“Can he provide the necessary body as well?” If so, he was a hell of a contact.
Benson nodded. “He claims he has influence at a local funeral home and can make the whole thing quite convincing.”
“Sounds like a real stand-up guy.”
He stared at his hands then. As if there was something about them he didn’t like…or that he’d done something with them that he wished he hadn’t.
His ex-wife had been murdered.
Could this man have committed murder?
Jane didn’t want to think so…but he’d based his entire existence these past four years on lies and had been successful.
Not exactly a good foundation for honesty.
“So what happens next?”
He turned to her. “I’m leaning toward dying.”
Chapter Thirteen
Victoria Colby-Camp’s Residence, 7:00 p.m.
Something was wrong.
The feeling was overwhelming. Victoria surveyed the street in front of her home as Lucas guided their car into the drive.
“Where is Simon’s car?” She turned to Lucas as he parked. “He should be here with Merri and Jamie.” Fear sent her heart into a faster rhythm.
“Stay put while I check things out.”
Before she could argue, Lucas had emerged from the car and started up the walk to the front door.
Victoria slipped her cell phone from her purse and entered Merri’s number. Ring after ring echoed in her ear before the call went to voice mail.
“This isn’t right.” Victoria pushed open her door and got out. She hurried up the walk.
Lucas met her at the door. “There’s no one here.” His tone was grave. “Simon’s cell goes straight to voice mail.”
Dear God.
Victoria shook her head. This couldn’t be happening. They had taken every precaution.
She pushed past Lucas, moved from room to room inside her home.
Lucas was on the phone. She could hear him asking questions. The fear that had set her heart to racing tightened around her chest and squeezed.
Please, please, don’t let Barker have gotten to Jamie.
&n
bsp; The entire house looked just as Victoria had left it that afternoon. She’d picked Jamie up from school and brought her here. Then she’d returned to the office for a meeting with those of her staff working on finding Barker. Merri and Simon had been here with Jamie.
This couldn’t be.
Victoria stalled in the center of her living room.
It couldn’t be happening again.
The cell phone slipped from her fingers, clattered on the floor.
“Victoria.”
She turned to Lucas.
“They’re at the office. We must have just missed them. Jamie is safe. She’s with Ian and the others.”
The relief buckled Victoria’s knees.
Lucas was suddenly next to her. “It’s all right, darling.” His strong arms went around her. “We’re going to stop him. One way or another.”
The Colby Agency, 7:45 p.m.
VICTORIA RUSHED off the elevator into the lobby. Lucas remained close behind her.
“See what Merri got me!” Holding a pretty pink purse, Jamie rushed to her grandmother. “There’s even a mirror.” She opened the little purse and showed Victoria the small attached mirror.
“It’s beautiful.” Victoria hugged the child close, her emotions so close to the surface that it took every ounce of strength she possessed to hold them back.
“Jamie.”
The child pulled away from her grandmother and turned to Merri.
“Let’s go to Ms. Mildred’s office and get the picture you drew Lucas.”
With a nod to Victoria, Merri took Jamie’s hand in hers and headed to Mildred’s office.
“What happened?” Victoria directed the question to Ian and Simon. “Jamie should never have been taken from the house without my explicit authorization.”
“We don’t know yet how Barker managed to tap in to our secure lines,” Ian explained, “but he did.”
“Apparently, he recorded several of our communications and used those to create a new call.” Simon picked up the details from there.
“What call?” Lucas asked.
Victoria held her breath. The thought that this man could reach into their most secure communications sent a chill straight to her bones.
“Merri received a voice mail directing her to bring Jamie back here. The originating number was yours, Victoria, or appeared to be. Merri brought the call to my attention since she thought it was strange. But the voice was yours so we complied with the request.”
“From this point on,” Lucas recommended, “we should verify all directives.”
“I attempted to verify the directive,” Simon clarified. “Each time I called your cell or Victoria’s, the calls went straight to voice mail.”
Victoria shook her head. “I didn’t receive a call.”
“Nor did I,” Lucas seconded.
“He’s in our system,” Ian surmised. “Controlling where the calls go. I’ve directed Ted Tallant and Kendra Todd to find the security breach and take the necessary actions to resolve the situation.”
Kendra and Ted were two of the agency’s top research analysts. With those two on the task, the situation would be under control soon.
“He’s toying with us,” Lucas said, the fury in his tone unmistakable. “He wanted us to know that he can get to Jamie despite our security measures.”
Victoria wished Jim and Tasha were here already. “Until this situation is resolved,” Victoria announced, her own fury burning past the more fragile emotions, “all communications will be face-to-face.”
It was a drastic measure, but an essential one.
“I agree,” Ian confirmed. “We’ll have an all-hands meeting tomorrow morning and ensure that everyone understands that there will be no exceptions.”
“I’ll put the word out about the meeting,” Simon volunteered. “And check up on Ted and Kendra’s progress.”
“I’d like to have an update as soon as possible,” Victoria told him before he headed to his office.
“How close are your specialists to locating this man?” Ian asked Lucas.
“They’re getting close,” Victoria’s husband relayed, “but obviously not close enough.”
Or fast enough, Victoria considered. But Clayton Barker was a man as highly trained as those specialists seeking him. He would not make it easy.
“Let’s add another layer of security to Jamie,” Victoria said to her second in command. “Just in case.”
“I’ll see to it,” Ian agreed.
“Have we heard anything else from Jane?” Victoria had the presence of mind to ask. This entire ordeal had shaken her as nothing else ever had—not in more than two decades.
“Jane and Mr. Beckman—aka Troy Benson—are safe in a motel outside Chicago for the night. Jane hopes to convince Mr. Beckman to allow the Colby Agency to help him. She believes she’s having some level of success.”
“Excellent.” Victoria had every confidence that Jane would accomplish her goal.
The telephone on the receptionist’s desk rang.
All attention zeroed in on the single button flashing in warning that a call was coming in.
Ian moved to the desk and picked up the receiver. “The Colby Agency.”
As he listened to the caller, Ian’s gaze collided with Victoria’s. “I’ll put you on speaker,” he said to the caller.
Ian pressed the necessary buttons and laid the receiver back in its cradle. “Go head, Barker, you’re on speaker. Both Victoria and Lucas are standing by.”
“Lucas Camp,” the loathsome voice said, “don’t put too much stock in your team’s skills. They’re not nearly as good as you think they are.”
“Time will tell,” Lucas countered.
“What do you want, Barker?” Victoria demanded. Her blood started to boil. She would love to be the one to put a bullet through this bastard’s brain. Anyone who would use a child like this didn’t deserve to keep breathing.
“I thought I’d already made that clear,” he said with a laugh. “Ten million, Victoria, not one cent less. Your time is running out. Surely my little exercise this evening proved beyond a shadow of a doubt that I can get to that sweet little granddaughter of yours any time I want to.”
The rage exploded in Victoria’s chest. “And yet you continue to play these meaningless games. Perhaps you can’t get as close as you’d like. Surely you don’t believe these scare tactics will get you what you want.”
Laughter boomed from the speaker. “Truly, Victoria, you are one of a kind. Believe what you will, but I’m quite certain my so-called scare tactics worked extraordinarily well. After all, you were scared, were you not?”
“I have no desire to waste any more of my time. Goodbye, Mr. Barker,” Victoria announced.
Ian hit the proper button, severing the connection. Victoria looked from Ian to Lucas. “Whatever it takes, gentlemen, I want this man taken down.”
He deserved to be with his old friend Leberman—in hell.
Chapter Fourteen
Chicago’s Warehouse District, 9:00 p.m.
“You’re certain this is what you want to do.”
She still believed that allowing the Colby Agency to take care of this situation would be in his best interest. Troy couldn’t take the risk that they would fail.
He had to do this the only way he knew for certain would work.
He had to die…again. From that point, he could make decisions about what to do regarding his uncle.
Four years ago when he’d realized going into Witness Protection was nothing more than a death sentence, he’d taken matters into his own hands. The bureau had actually made it quite easy. They’d set him up with a supposedly new and protected identity down in Florida. He’d planned his death to the last detail. There had even been a couple of witnesses. He’d gone over the side of the boat and rescuers hadn’t been able to find him. The waters had been searched for days with no luck. The witnesses had reported that he’d gotten far too drunk…and everyone had fallen for it. Even the bu
reau.
Evidently his uncle had been smarter than Troy had presumed. He’d kept an eye out for any sign of his nephew. His bureau contacts had likely done the same.
He would have to be more careful this time. They would know if he’d tried it once, he might try it again. Even if they were convinced, the chances of his uncle giving up completely were slim.
If Troy were lucky the old bastard would die before he discovered Troy’s location the next time.
That little voice that he couldn’t keep completely at bay railed at him. Reminded him that what he was doing was the easy way out. He exiled the voice, couldn’t think beyond the moment.
Jane was still waiting for an answer. “It’s the only way.”
“For the record, I think you’re making a mistake.”
“Maybe.”
A dark sedan rolled to a stop on the long stretch of alleyway that backed up to the row of warehouses.
“Is that him?”
“That’s him.” Troy reached for the door.
“I’m going with you.”
“That’s not a good idea.”
Jane got out of the car anyway. Not much he could do about her hardheadedness since the guy in the other vehicle had no doubt seen her.
Troy wanted to be angry but somehow he couldn’t. He’d told this woman he was moving forward with his own plan and still she insisted on hanging in with him for the duration. What was that about?
She couldn’t possibly care whether he lived or died.
Surely she didn’t believe she could still talk him into meeting with Norcross for the reward.
Jane Sutton baffled him.
As they approached the dark sedan the driver’s window powered down. “Who’s the woman?” The driver looked from Troy to Jane and back.
“A friend.”
The man behind the wheel stared at Jane for a long moment, then turned his attention back to Troy. “Get in.” He flicked a glance at Jane. “Only you.”
She opened her mouth to argue, but Troy shot her a look and she snapped it closed.
He opened the car door closest to him and climbed into the backseat. A man sat on the other side of the seat, fiftyish, gleaming bald head and fiercely intent eyes. The elegant suit he wore didn’t fit with the deadly expression that appeared permanently etched across his face.