Peyton’s Price: A Singular Obsession Novel

by Leroux, Lucy

  “No,” he finally said.

  Peyton burst into tears as Liam collapsed on the cushions in relief.

  Liam grunted aloud. “Can we maybe wash away this fight under a hot shower? I’ve been on a plane for hours.”

  “That sounds good to me.” Peyton gave them a watery smile.

  Matthias stood. He seemed a little wobbly, but so much calmer. Bending, he offered his hand to Peyton, helping her to her feet.

  Liam’s relief wasn’t complete until Matthias bent to nuzzle Peyton’s hairline.

  “Why don’t you two go ahead?” he suggested. “I need to reply to a text from Trick.”

  With matching nods, Peyton and Matthias headed off to the suite’s bathroom arm in arm.

  Sighing, Liam took off his coat, feeling as if he’d dodged a bullet. More like a ballistic missile.

  With a grimace, he took out the small black box from his left pocket. Unable to resist, he flipped open the lid, admiring the gleaming set of rings.

  There were three, of course, but he’d have to wait until another week or two to see if the exclusive jeweler had the sizing right.

  They’ll say yes, he told himself.

  Granted, those two had blindsided him tonight, but in a couple of days, things would go back to normal. Once it did, he’d be able to lock this down.

  Probably… As long as there were no other bombshells waiting to blow him out of the water.

  Chapter 37

  Matthias spared a passing thought for eavesdropping on Peyton’s conversation, but his guilt was short-lived. If she hadn’t wanted him to listen, she would have closed the bedroom door.

  Besides, this Mason Ward was the reason she had been keeping secrets for the last few months. Well, Ward was part of the reason, he amended.

  Peyton had started investigating the disaster in Belarus to find a way to assuage his guilt over what happened. And then she kept lying to help that young girl get out of a horrible situation. Anisa was now attending a boarding school in southern Colorado. Much to everyone’s relief, she was thriving there.

  He leaned forward, straining to hear what Peyton was telling Ward. He caught the words ‘cafe’ and a time. Checking his watch, he guessed Mason was coming here in a few hours.

  By sheer coincidence, he decided he needed a more up-to-date prospectus on the acquisition he was supposed to make this afternoon. Texting Priya, he had her move his meeting to the following afternoon. And perhaps Mason would appreciate lunch catered by a Michelin-starred chef.

  Peyton would see through his schedule rearrangement in a heartbeat, but she was being very indulgent at the moment. She still felt bad about hiding her investigation from him.

  Besides, he’d done a background check on Agent Ward. Though there was nothing objectionable in his background, the photo Priya included pictured a young and handsome man. On impulse, he called the Caislean’s kitchen to arrange the special lunch, hanging up with a mild flash of contrition.

  Normally, he’d feel like shit for throwing his weight around. Emotional blackmail had been his ex-wife’s specialty. After they had broken up, Matthias had taken a good long look at himself and the way he behaved in relationships. But in this particular instance, he wasn’t above playing on Peyton’s guilt. It was for her own protection.

  Liam wouldn’t have had any qualms about it, he reminded himself. Which was why it was good their other partner would be tied up until this evening. Peyton would be much more tolerant of any interference if she weren’t getting it from both sides.

  Now there’s a much better idea. A flood of sensual memories flooded his mind. He smiled, planning to make many more.

  Peyton came into the room just then. She responded to his grin with one of her own. “What has you in such a good mood?”

  “My meeting got pushed back, so I thought we’d have lunch,” he replied easily, taking advantage of the moment.

  “It was?” There was a thread of suspicion in her tone, but Peyton’s benign expression suggested she wasn’t going to make an issue of it. Clearly, growing up around the Tylers had taught her when to pick her battles.

  “Lunch sounds great, but I may not be able to make it. It depends on the timing.”

  “Agent Ward can join us.”

  She bit her lip, obviously to keep from laughing. “So you were eavesdropping?”

  “Not guilty,” he said lightly.

  Peyton narrowed her eyes skeptically. “You’re denying it now? After admitting you know Mason is on his way?”

  “Oh, no. I was listening in. I just meant I don’t feel guilty.”

  Peyton reached over to tweak his tie. “You are shameless.”

  The phone on the side table began to ring. Peyton excused herself to answer while he went to get his laptop. When he returned, she was frowning. “No, that’s fine. I’ll come down. It should only take a few minutes.”

  “What’s up?” he asked, his eyes on his computer.

  “A small development that will please you. I just have to run down to the front desk for a minute. Be right back,” she called behind her, already halfway to the door.

  Matthias settled on the couch with his computer, quickly losing himself in stock reports. He worked steadily for a while until a knock at the door roused him. A quick glance at his new watch confirmed he’d lost an hour.

  Peyton must have been waylaid again. Liam had warned him about this, too. She made friends everywhere.

  “Lunch should be here in ten minutes. I hope you’re hungry,” he said as he opened the door.

  The auburn-haired man on the other side didn’t bat a lash. “I’m starving, actually. What’s on the menu?”

  Taken aback, Matthias blinked. “Agent Ward, I presume?”

  Ward held out his hand. “You’re not Liam Tyler. I guess you’re the other one.”

  “Matthias Raske,” he introduced himself in a flat tone, hesitating before standing aside and gesturing the man to enter. “Peyton went downstairs, but she should be back any minute. She must have been held up.”

  Agent Ward circled the room with an appraising scan. “I guess as a former Caislean employee, she probably has friends among the staff.”

  “Peyton has friends everywhere,” he said dryly. “You’re very well-informed, Agent Ward.”

  “Well, I was curious about her before she got in touch. Ethan has mentioned her a few times over the years.”

  “I see,” Matthias said, deciding not to waste any more time. “Have you had any luck hunting down your mole?”

  “Ah…so Peyton told you about that?”

  “She doesn’t keep secrets from me.” His tone strongly suggested Ward not ask her to keep any in the future.

  The agent’s brows rose meaningfully. “Oh. Well…I think I see, too. Sorry. I guess I was read in wrong. I thought she and Tyler were—”

  “You thought she and I were what?” Liam asked as he barreled through the door, tugging off his tie. He was carrying his suit jacket over his arm.

  Liam ignored the man next to him, pausing to toss his jacket and briefcase on the nearest chair. “I need to call maintenance. The fucking elevator to the penthouse is out. I had to take the stairs.”

  “Ten flights?” Agent Ward looked him up and down. Liam hadn’t even broken a sweat. The only giveaway was the color in his cheeks.

  “Yeah.” Liam stopped and pressed a quick but hard kiss to Matthias’ lips, making the agent’s eyes widen a fraction.

  Noticing it, Liam scowled at him. “What?”

  Agent Ward shook his head. “Nothing.”

  Liam crossed his arms, staring him down.

  Ward shrugged. “I just figured out why Ethan was never able to land his white whale. Poor bastard would have had to clone himself…or find a friend,” he said.

  “I’m not surprised that last wasn’t possible.” Grunting, Liam turned on his heel, dismissing the man. He reached for the phone. “I’m calling Phil about the elevators. Where is Peyton?”

  “My guess is she’s
stuck downstairs since the elevators are out,” Matthias surmised. She had been wearing her favorite stiletto heels, which would have made the ten flights nine too many.

  Liam growled something as a second knock on the door heralded the arrival of lunch. Gerard, the butler, sweated profusely as he clutched a heavily laden tray. Feeling guilty but unable to do anything about it, Matthias waved Gerard inside, directing him to set up the meal in the dining room.

  The agent trailed after him. Matthias waited until Gerard had left to speak. “Peyton will tell you herself when she gets up here, but she’s decided to decline your offer of working for Interpol, even off the books. She doesn’t want to get any deeper in your mole hunt.”

  Agent Ward smiled wryly, standing next to the chair instead of sitting in it. “You mean you don’t want her to get in any deeper.”

  Matthias waved him to one of the chairs at the formal oak dining table. “Peyton is no pushover. She came to this decision on her own. Liam and I just back her up as needed. But while she’s a superb programmer, there are many more who specialize in what you need.”

  Ward rubbed his temple, betraying the strain he was under for the first time. “Yes, well, she’s the best I’ve found outside the agency. And, as luck would have it, she got in touch with me. I would be lying if I said I had a better option at the moment.”

  Matthias nodded in understanding. “I want to get to the bottom of this as well. The Belarus incident was extremely hard on me, not to mention the staff who helped me arrange it. We have a vested interest in bringing this man or woman to justice. But it can’t be Peyton.”

  “I can’t blame her for that. It’s a very unpleasant business,” Ward said, his crisp English accent sharpening to a knifepoint.

  An unexpected shaft of sympathy shot through Matthias. “It must be difficult, knowing someone around you—perhaps a trusted colleague—is responsible for such carnage.”

  Ward stared off into the distance. “I’m quite chuffed about it,” he lied. “Keeps me on my toes.”

  “You’ll find them,” Matthias assured him in a quiet tone. “And in her way, Peyton will continue to help.”

  “How’s that exactly?” Ward raised a brow.

  “I was prepared to search for an elite hacker to take over for her,” he explained. “I employ several knowledgeable coders, but she already had someone specific in mind.”

  “Are they any good?” He reached for a bread roll.

  “Peyton didn’t give me a name, but she did call them a rock star,” Matthias supplied. “And if she says they can do the job, then they can.”

  “If that’s the case, then—” Ward began.

  “It’s in the fucking basement?” Liam’s raised voice could be heard two rooms away.

  They turned as Liam stormed into the room. “Is there a problem?”

  Liam responded by swearing a blue streak. Ward didn’t flinch, but his eyes widened at the particularly colorful string of epithets.

  “Peyton is late because the penthouse elevator is stuck in the basement,” Liam ground out. “According to maintenance, the last time it was used, it went straight down there instead of the lobby. To top it off, the mechanic has been out to lunch the whole time. I have to go down there and find her.”

  “Is she stuck in the elevator cabin or is she wandering the basement?” Ward asked.

  “I don’t know.”

  Frowning, Matthias threw down his napkin to join him.

  Ward stood and followed, adjusting his holster. Matthias was about to comment that a gun wasn’t necessary, but he kept his mouth shut. His life had become something of a rollercoaster over the last few years. An armed guard would be a sound financial investment at this point.

  The trip down the stairs was nowhere near as arduous as one in reverse would be. But by the time they reached the basement level, the three men were huffing—mainly because Liam started running down the last four flights. He and Agent Ward followed suit.

  They hit the basement like the bulls running in Pamplona. Liam didn’t need to acknowledge his worry aloud for Matthias to sense it. Even Ward seemed to feel the tension.

  The mechanic and his assistant had just arrived, and they were unpacking their gear. But the question of whether their partner was trapped in the elevator car was answered immediately—the door was wide open. There was no sign of Peyton. Neither man had seen her.

  Matthias had never been down to this level. It was surprisingly crammed down here—the laundry, storage rooms, and enough water heaters to ensure half the city could take a hot shower.

  “Are we sure she didn’t go to the cafe in the lobby to wait?” Agent Ward questioned, following as he and Liam started stalking through the warren of corridors in the basement.

  “She would have texted,” Liam replied, peeking around the corner.

  “What if she forgot her phone?” Ward continued, opening and closing a closet.

  “Peyton doesn’t go anywhere without her phone,” Matthias said. She had even kept it with her on the Ormen Lange, in the middle of the ocean, where she had been nowhere near her service provider.

  They kept searching. Matthias started to sweat. There was no way Peyton accidentally locked herself down here. She’d worked at this hotel chain for her entire adult life, and she knew her way around spaces like this. And she’d been aware Agent Ward had been on his way to meet her…

  “Does Peyton like wearing very high heels?” Ward asked.

  “Not particularly,” Liam admitted, throwing open another door. “But she knows we like them, so she puts up with them sometimes.”

  Matthias frowned. “Do you see heel marks or something?”

  “Not exactly.” Agent Ward bent, then fished something out from under a shelf stocked with linens. The distinctive red sole of the Louboutin was like a flashing neon light.

  Matthias took it from his hand. “That’s one of the shoes Peyton was wearing today.”

  Chapter 38

  Peyton’s head throbbed. A tear escaped her eye as she struggled to focus on her surroundings. She was sitting in a sunny wood-paneled room. There was an antique table in front of her with a pristine leather blotter and one those ugly painted ducks.

  Where did my other shoe go?

  The pocket of her dress lay flat. The flash drive was gone…and her hands were bound behind her back with hard metal rings. Handcuffs. Ropes were wrapped around her middle, securing her to a wooden chair.

  “Welcome back.”

  Narrowing her eyes against the too-bright light, she turned her head as slowly as possible. Two men watched her from the other side of the table.

  “Apologies for the knock to the head. It was necessary to facilitate your departure from the hotel. The Caislean has better security than most.”

  Still fuzzy-headed, Peyton belatedly realized the table was a desk. One of the men, the older one, sat behind it in a leather chair. The other one, his countenance that of hired muscle, stood to his left as if he were waiting for orders.

  Neither was wearing a mask to obscure their features. That’s a bad sign.

  She didn’t bother with stupid questions. “I take it I’m meeting Interpol’s mole.”

  The older man laughed. “I see the information we have on you is spot on. You’re a very bright woman, Peyton Carson.”

  The man was English, which didn’t surprise her. Most Bond villains were English. However, the prominently displayed wedding ring was a bit off-putting. Did his wife know what kind of bloodshed her husband had been responsible for?

  “Not that bright actually.” She sniffed. “I have no idea what your name is. I didn’t discover your identity in the files Mason sent. You kidnapped me for nothing.”

  The man drummed his fingers on the disk, a considering light in his eyes. “Well, that remains to be seen. Just because you can’t identify me from the breadcrumbs you’ve gathered doesn’t mean Agent Ward can’t. The man is tenacious. I should know. I trained him myself.”

  The man next to h
im rolled his eyes, but Peyton didn’t say anything. She was too sick to her stomach. Mason hadn’t mentioned the name of his supervisor at Interpol, so she still couldn’t put a face to a name, but the overwhelming wave of betrayal on his behalf choked her.

  The Englishman leaned forward. “As you’ve no doubt surmised, we learned of your meeting with Agent Ward. Travis here has been keeping tabs on him ever since we discovered he was looking into the Belarus matter.”

  And they had found out she was handing off her report in person at Mason’s insistence. No doubt they had pored over all the data on the flash drive.

  “Ms. Carson, is there another copy of the report?” the Englishman asked.

  “Of course.”

  “She’s lying. Mason would have warned her not to make one,” Travis muttered, speaking for the first time. His accent was American. Peyton didn’t know why that bothered her so much.

  “He did tell me not to make one, but I’m a coder,” she said, wishing her voice didn’t sound as weak as it did. Her head still pounded. “I always make a backup—that shit is engrained. It’s in my private safe at the Caislean. Only I know the code to open it.”

  The Englishman laughed. “How charmingly transparent of you, Ms. Carson. But you and I both know you are not getting out of this room alive. Not even to retrieve a copy of the report, which, by my estimate, has only a fifty-percent chance of existing.”

  “It exists,” Peyton said, infusing her voice with as much bravado as she could. “And I will be getting out of this room alive and well.”

  More laughter. “Well, you do have—what do you American’s call it? Moxy?”

  “Balls. I have balls,” Peyton corrected, trying and failing to ignore the pounding of her head. “And I may not know your name, but I have a good idea of your motivation for helping those traffickers. In fact, I suspect Belarus is just one in an extensive list of crimes you’re responsible for.”

  “Do tell…”

  She sighed. This guy is the lamest Bond villain ever. “It’s obvious. You did it for the money.”