Undercover Daddy

by Katherine Deane

  “I’m trying to keep you out of our way so we can do our job—and so I don’t have to ban you from the area. I’m going to say this once, Doyle. You don’t get your head out of your ass, I will throw you out a window myself.”

  Connor barked a hoarse laugh and rubbed his neck. “I’ve already been threatened with a quarry dive. I’ll pass, thanks.”

  “Are you sure you’re going to be okay?”

  “Yeah, I just need to go cool off. You’re right. Sorry about that.”

  “I could send in Sveta if you need a tension release; she’s good with a wooden spoon,” Bradley said, smiling when Connor choked.

  “No, no, completely unnecessary but thanks for the offer to share. That’s not my thing. But, um, thank you.”

  “Dude, you should see your face right now. I’m just messing with you. Come on.” He held the door open for him, and they walked out. “Get your info to Trina and then get outside. I have your cell phone, and will let you know as soon as we find something.”

  “I won’t be far.”

  “I figured that.”

  * * *

  Ow, how much did she drink last night? Alex’s head felt heavy and fuzzy, and a sharp pain ran from the base of her spine all the way up her head. Why didn’t Connor stop her from—?

  She groaned, suddenly remembering. Charlotte, the stairwell, the big daddy who wasn’t really a daddy, and someone with that evil little chloroform hanky. Her throat was parched and screaming for water. Her whole body ached, and she couldn’t move. And it wasn’t because her limbs were tied to a chair and her head was slumped at an awkward angle, allowing her to see the dark outline of her panties inside her skirt. “Whatdidyougiveme?” she slurred, and tried to get her head back on straight.

  A wave of dizziness washed over her and she bit the inside of her cheek, before she did something disgusting like puke all over herself. She closed her eyes and tried to focus on breathing. Opening up her other senses, she investigated the room she was in.

  A drip, drip, drip from the left far corner echoed back to her. The smell of old metal, rust, and car fluids wafted through her nostrils. The air felt stagnant and warm, no breeze filtered through the room. Her feet finally cooperated, even though her legs were too tightly bound to move. She tapped tentatively on the hard surface, and a low thud echoed from the cement. She heard quiet sniffles on her right. Definitely female crying, high-pitched, muffled.

  “Mr. Potts with the candlestick in the sitting room,” Alex announced loudly and the crying stopped.

  “You are so weird,” Charlotte said from the other side of the room before giving a loud, elongated sniffle that sounded an awful lot like she was wiping her snot on her sleeve.

  “Thank you.” Alex grinned, opened her eyes, and met her red-eyed gaze. “Now do you mind telling me what the hell we are doing in an old automotive shop that hasn’t been used in, ugh,” she wrinkled her nose at the smell, “at least five years? And why the frack are you tied up? I thought you were in on this.”

  The blonde started sobbing, and her upper torso shook as she wept. “I was in on it. I’m the boss. I’m supposed to be in charge. But I think they changed their minds. Assholes.” She started bawling and Alex watched in fascination as a river of black mascara and porcelain ivory number two foundation swept down the woman’s face.

  Oh, for crap’s sake. “Do you have to overreact to every little thing? Gawd, stop crying already.”

  That made the young woman sob even harder. “I’m a good girl, I’m a good girl.” she said to herself over and over.

  As little pinpricks consumed Alex’s body, she shimmied and started working on maneuvering her body into moving again. “So… here we are, having a lovely little play date in grease hell. Thank you for inviting me, Charlotte.” She practically sang the words at her. “But what are we missing?”

  Charlotte stopped crying and cocked her head at her in confusion.

  “Oh, yeah, the fracking tea and scones and music, and oh, yeah, the fun!” She slammed her body as hard as she could and started jumping the chair up and down angrily. “What the hell?”

  “I’m sorry.” Charlotte looked like she was about to start crying again.

  “Don’t you dare start crying again, or I swear when I get out of this I will spank you myself!” She furiously tried to get some wiggle room, but the ropes were too tight.

  Charlotte had at least stopped crying, and was now looking at her with wide, wet eyes and trembling lips. “It wasn’t supposed to go this far.”

  “What?” She could barely hear the other woman’s whisper.

  Pain showed in her eyes. “I was just trying to scare you guys. I wanted to win. I needed it this year more than anything.” Her lower lips did that funky grimace thing.

  “I just want to understand. Who were those guys, and why are we tied to chairs in a body shop? Why aren’t you getting your crown, tiara, whatever you win?”

  “My husband is sleeping with a nineteen-year-old.” Charlotte started crying again.

  “Ah, wow, I am so sorry.”

  She mewled and looked up at her with sorrow-filled eyes. “He doesn’t want to play with me anymore. He said I was too old and getting wrinkles and flabbing in places trophy wives weren’t supposed to.”

  Alex was ninety-nine percent sure the woman was telling the truth. Charlotte wore her emotions on her face, and they were even easier to read than a blinking billboard. “So…”

  “I hired Max to be my daddy for the weekend, and do odd jobs.”

  “Odd jobs like making threats against you and other contestants in the pageant?”

  She nodded. “He was just supposed to help me look good, and scare off the rest of you. But when I told him you were a cop—”

  “How’d you figure it out?” Alex cut in. “It was supposed to be hush-hush.”

  Charlotte shrugged. “I cried at Mr. Jansen and told him how important it was to me, but that I was also scared. He told me there was an undercover couple keeping an eye on things, and not to tell anyone.”

  “So you told your grunt for hire?”

  She nodded. “He made a few calls, and figured out it was you. I’m so sorry.” The poor woman wrung her hands miserably. They had not counted on her getting out easily, so her hands were tied in the front. “I really wasn’t going to hurt anyone. I just wanted you to, um, disappear for an hour. Oh, God, that sounds horrible.”

  “Yeah, it’s up there with a few of the nastier things I’ve ever had happen to me.” Alex rolled her eyes.

  “Now, I’m in this mess too.” Charlotte’s eyes filled with tears.

  “Let me guess. Asshole Daddy realized just how much money you’re worth and is going to ransom you, because he got sick of saying ‘yes, ma’am’ to a brat?”

  Charlotte grimaced at her words, but nodded. “He tied me up after his friend carried you in here. He said he wished I wasn’t worth millions, so he could pay me back a bit for all the shit I put him through this weekend.”

  “Well, nobody likes a brat. Sorry. I get sarcastic when I’m tied to a chair and about to get either ransomed with a beauty princess, or killed. I’m not worth as much, so I’m going to wager, my body goes in the river.”

  A horrified squeak erupted from Charlotte’s mouth.

  “Relax, I’m working on a plan. Just give me a second. My head’s still spinning.”

  Charlotte’s sobs continued, but at least she was trying to be quiet about it.

  “Okay, where are our buddies and how many of them are there? Do you know their plans?” Her voice sounded hoarse and crackly. God, she’d kill for a Coke right now.

  Charlotte sniffled and cocked her head thoughtfully. “They left to go make the ransom call about fifteen minutes ago. I know they have a disposable phone. Just in case it was tracked. But they still headed out of town as far as they could, just in case.” She looked miserable—like a raccoon that had lost its birthday cake, or whatever a raccoon’s favorite treat was. Garbage.

  A
lex held in a snigger. Her fellow contestant probably wouldn’t find the humor in being called a feral animal who liked trash. “How long have I been out?”

  “Um, maybe an hour. I don’t know. They took my phone.”

  “How long did we drive before we got here? If I can figure out where we are, then we’ll—”

  “Oh, I know where we are,” Charlotte interrupted, seeming happy to be of some use. “I sat in the front seat and watched the scenery, happy as a clam, thinking we were just going to dump you here for a while.” She had the grace to look apologetic. “Sorry.”

  Alex shook her head and blew out a breath. No use upsetting her again. “We’ll talk about it later. For right now, just tell me everything you know.”

  “Okay.” The blonde wiggled her hands, not noticing that she had loosened the ropes on one of them, and reached up to pull her hair out of her face.

  Alex would let her know that piece of information next. Charlotte didn’t seem to do well with distractions.

  “We are in the old warehouse district about five miles out of town. My father had friends who used to own this place, before they got shut down due to some issues. There’s practically no internet connection. I tried before they took my phone away. And then tied me up.” She frowned, and Alex wondered if the woman was angrier at being captured or having her precious tweeting, skyping, texting, instagramming tech taken away. What was one supposed to do without instant social media gratification, after all?

  Charlotte continued. “The original plan was just to keep you here for an hour or so, and then dump you in the front of the hotel after the pageant was over.”

  “What if I had gotten killed? Some people have deadly reactions to chloroform. How were you planning on dumping me? Were you going to stop the car first? Oh, my God, Charlotte! And did you really think they would continue the pageant with, um, someone being kidnapped?”

  Tears shimmered in Charlotte’s eyes. “I didn’t think—”

  “No, you definitely did not think. Who do you think the cops—my partner—would have come to first? Let’s see, you disappear for a little bit at the same time as me, then magically, poof, back just in time to win a frickin’ pageant? No, you don’t get to look all sad and puppy dog-eyed at me. Grow up!”

  Charlotte bit her lip and straightened her shaky posture.

  “I’m not done with you yet, lady.” Alex took a deep breath, and kept trying to wriggle out of her own ropes. “If you want to act like a little girl in your spare time, you go right ahead. That’s your prerogative—it’s your life. I honestly don’t care if you want to prance around in diapers and drink bottles. Like I said, it’s not my business what you do behind closed doors. But the second you take that scene out into the real world, disrespect the people around you, and stomp on them to make yourself feel better, I call bullshit. Bull… shit. You don’t get to dismiss personal responsibility and possibly hurt others for your own precious ego.”

  Tears ran down Charlotte’s face, and horror filled her eyes. “I am a horrible person. I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry.”

  “You just… you should have thought things through first.” Alex rolled her aching shoulders and cracked her neck. “No matter how much you want something, or think it is the only way, you can’t just barrel headfirst—not without a plan. Ya leap after you look. Oh.” The realization hit her like a Mack truck. Hadn’t that been what Connor had lectured her about every time she’d made what she jokingly referred to as a rookie mistake? She took a deep, cleansing breath and released it. “Hey, I’m sorry. I lost my temper. I’m just angry at the situation, and holding you accountable for what that ass-hat did. Your idea was still pretty messed up, but you didn’t mean any harm. You were just being foolish. And young.”

  “I try not to, but my husband keeps telling me I’m just a dumb child stuck in a grownup woman’s body.”

  “No, you’re definitely not any of that.” Alex shrugged. “You’re talented and creative and your energy is very young at heart. I saw your artwork in the foyer of the hotel. You’re pretty damn good.”

  The blonde flushed with pleasure and then frowned. “Jack always said painting was for children and village idiots, or people who couldn’t get a real job. But he let me do it because it made me happy. I’m a trophy wife, remember?” she said bitterly. “I look good on a man’s arm.”

  “Well, you don’t have to be a trophy wife if you don’t want to. Leave your cheating asshole of a husband, and paint for yourself—after you get out of jail for assault and kidnapping, of course.” She whispered the last part under her breath.

  “Oh! I could never do that. I, I need a husband or a daddy to support me. I can’t—”

  “Bullshit.” Alex interrupted her again. “You’re a strong, capable, intelligent—slightly on the devious side—woman. Be who you want to be. Do what you want to do. And if you want to play schoolgirl on the side and obey a man because you want to, then go ahead. But don’t make the mistake of regressing into someone who won’t stop playing long enough to take care of herself when she needs to. You’re stronger than that.”

  “Thanks.”

  “I’m still considering whether or not I’m going to kick your ass when this is all through, but for right now, let’s just focus on pooling our strengths and getting out of here before those goons get back.”

  “Alex?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Your necklace is flashing. Only a little bit, like a blue intermittent light every couple five or so seconds. It just started a minute ago.”

  The necklace Connor had given her? Connor had given her a necklace with some sort of tracking device in it? She held in her surprised laugh—this was the sort of thing she would have done to prank him. She might add his ass to the list of ones to kick, but for now… Her partner was coming! “We need to get out of these chairs and find a place to lay low until the cavalry comes. You ready?”

  “No,” Charlotte squeaked.

  “Yes, you are.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Connor was already in his rental car, doing strategic circles around town, when the call he wanted came in. Okay, he’d received a few calls and texts already from a pissed-off state rep, his captain, the RPD sergeant in charge, and an equally infuriated DA, about how he had just left—without any backup support, and without direction. But he couldn’t just fiddle in his fucking pockets for the next hour. He had to do something useful.

  He answered on the second ring, and pulled over onto a side street so he could focus.

  “Hey, man. I’ve got Quinn on three-way,” Brad said right before the other man’s confirming grunt came over the line.

  “What do you have?”

  “We found the chip. It took a while. Even when we received the tracking codes. We had to get an order for that from someone higher than me—but thankfully, she was in the next room.” Connor could hear Bradley grinning over the phone. “The signal is good and strong now, but it was bleeping out like a burnt-out battery until two minutes ago. Now it’s strong.”

  “Where?”

  Sergeant Quinn’s voice sounded from a different line. “Where are you?”

  “I’m on the outermost west road heading in a loop around town.”

  “You know I can’t authorize you as part of my unit,” Quinn said.

  “Yeah, I know—”

  “But,” the other man cut him off, “if it was my wife, nothing in hell would keep me away from this. If you just happened to get word from a friend where I’m sending my team, there’s nothing I could do to stop you. Brad, you still on?”

  “Yes.”

  “You guys feel free to talk for a few. I’m headed out in two minutes. Doyle?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Don’t get yourself or my guys killed.”

  “Got it.”

  The other line went dead.

  “Do you have a weapon, vest, anything useful?” Brad asked.

  “Already have what I need.” He never left home without his Gloc
k, and it was holstered safely against his body—where Alex should be. “Where is she?” Connor took a deep breath and released it. “You have my word, I’ll get my head on straight before I go in. Just tell me.” His voice cracked on the last word, but he played it off with a grunt and cleared his throat.

  “Old warehouse district, building number forty-two. Go east on any main street you can to get out of town. All of them hit fifty-seven. Take it north about eight miles, and you’ll see it. If you keep going straight, you’ll end up in the river. Forty-seven used to be a chop shop until we closed them down. Hey, Sergeant Quinn and his guys are already on their way, and with lights flashing, they’ll be there in a few minutes. Be careful.”

  “Got it, boss.” He had already pulled out and was heading east as he maneuvered carefully but quickly down the two-lane road. “Thanks! I’ll keep you posted.”

  “And I’ll let you know what’s going on on our side.”

  Connor clicked the end button and cursed, wishing he had his own car, with sirens and flashing lights. Of course, he would go dark before he hit the warehouse area. Shit, he hoped the other unit knew enough to do so. No. He couldn’t worry about anything else right now. All he could control was his own actions. And he was already ahead of the game. Route fifty-seven came up within seconds, and he turned onto the hard, straight road. If he was lucky, he would make it ahead of the other unit. He wouldn’t go in guns blazing, like Bradley had said. He wasn’t about to do anything that might give the perp’s lawyer a loophole to wriggle out of, but he would go save his girl.

  He focused on the road ahead of him, trying to keep out the fear and gruesome memories from Frank’s death. He squeezed the steering wheel so tightly his knuckles turned white, as he pressed the pedal a little closer to the floor. The needle inched its way to eighty. This was a sixty-five-mile road, shit. Without sirens and lights, he could be a danger to other cars on the road. He backed off and took it back down to seventy-four. God, what he’d give for his own car right now.

  Alex’s grinning face popped into his memory and he relaxed his grip on the wheel. She was the most capable woman he had ever met. She could handle herself. Unless they had already killed her. Damn it. He started speeding up again, just as his phone rang. “Yeah,” he barked into the phone and saw the dark sedans with the flashing lights as they neatly surrounded his car, speeding down the road.