VANISHED, A Romantic Suspense Novel (Edgars Family Novel)

by Suzanne Ferrell

  Nothing but the sound of her shoes on the carpet.

  This was ridiculous. Why the hell was he so worried? They were five doors from the ice machine.

  Because this was Abby.

  Any other agent would’ve known not to leave the room without their weapon, but this wasn’t any usual agent but Abby, who’d never been in the field. For all her training, she was still a novice and it was his job to keep her safe.

  Didn’t have a thing to do with how her lips or skin had tasted today when he’d been playing the part of her lover in front of Jeffers and his stalker. Damn right. He was the senior agent on a dangerous op. It was his job to think of his junior agent’s safety at all time.

  And all senior agents cradled their subordinates in their laps, pressed in tight to their bodies.

  Fuck. And if that didn’t have him all hard and straining against his pants? The last thing he needed to do was act on the desire to bury himself deep inside Abby, no matter how happy that would make him. She wasn’t his usual love ’em and leave ’em kind of girl. She was the kind of woman who gave her heart only once and he damn well didn’t intend to be the one to break it. Wasn’t that why he’d rejected her all those years ago?

  Ca-chunk, ca-chunk.

  Well, she’d made it to the ice machine safe and sound.

  He had about two minutes to get his hormones under control before she sashayed back into the room, still looking like the damn supermodel. With a sideways glance his gaze landed on where she’d laid her black-framed glasses.

  And wasn’t that a fun surprise?

  Abby’s brain had always challenged him and he found it very sexy. Add that to her long sensual body and most men would be done in. But who knew seeing her with those glasses on her nose, her brows crunched as she concentrated on her work, would invoke a fantasy he hadn’t even known he had—Abby dressed in heels and only those glasses.

  He groaned at the renewed thickness in his cock.

  “What’s wrong?” Abby asked as she hurried in the door, remembering to pull the latch so it locked behind her. “Did you discover something?”

  Yes, that I have a thing for long, thin brunettes who are smart as hell and look sexy in glasses.

  “That this program is taking a while,” he said, all the while thankful that his laptop sat squarely on his lap to hide what really had him groaning. “Two satellites are in line and have picked up her phone’s signal.”

  “That’s a good thing, right?”

  She set the ice bucket back on the wet bar and made herself a pop. He watched as she took a drink, the muscles of her neck working as she swallowed, then her tongue slipped out to swipe across her lips. Closing his eyes he fought the urge to moan.

  “Luke?”

  The concern in her voice cleared his thoughts. She wanted to know about her friend, not his perverted thoughts.

  “Yes, two pings says the battery is still in the unit. What we need now is just one more to get in alignment so we can triangulate her exact location. It’s just taking time to get them in place. Would be easier if I had her password. You wouldn’t have any clue what it might be, would you?”

  Shaking her head, she sat on the other bed. “Sorry. Brianna was just as smart about codes as she was numbers. Whatever she chose would be random words, numbers and capitalization. Drove me crazy reminding me to mix it up and change them periodically. You could say she was almost paranoid about it.” She paused, nibbling on her lower lip again. “I guess with good reason, huh?”

  “She definitely stumbled into something dangerous. Would she have access to any information that a competitor to Hollister-Klein might want to get a hold of?”

  “I don’t think so. She worked simply in the financial area of the company. Nothing with manufacturing. She mostly handled shipping or receiving data. Why?”

  “Unless someone was trying a hostile takeover, I doubt they’d go to the extremes these people have just to get Brenda’s codes.”

  “Brianna. And I can see your point. Then what could they want from her?”

  “I’d say it was whatever prompted her call to you, just like we’ve thought all along.”

  With a sigh, she shook her head, stared out the window, blinking hard. “You’re right. I should’ve gotten her tell me more, pinned her down for more information, instead of just hopping on a plane.”

  “Hey, don’t go there” he said, trying to stop her from wallowing in guilt before it started. “This is not your fault in any way, Abby. She asked you to come help and like a good friend you did just that.”

  “I know, but—” Before she could answer his laptop pinged. She set her drink on the bedside table and leaned over his shoulder to peer at the screen. “Is that her? Did it find her?”

  “It’s her cell phone, Abby. Remember that. It may or may not be with her.” Ignoring the warmth of her body pressed against his back and shoulder he focused on what the computer was telling him. Fingers flying over the keyboard, he typed in a request for the exact coordinates of the signal.

  “Just about got it,” he said, zeroing in.

  Then the signal disappeared.

  “Dammit!” Luke gripped the laptop, wanting to shake it.

  “What happened? Where did it go?”

  “I don’t know. The signal just stopped.” He entered codes to try and pull up the signal once more. Nothing.

  “Could it be the satellites moved?”

  He pulled air slowly into his lungs, calming the frustration itching at his nerves, then typed in more code to check the locations of the military satellites once more. “They’re all in alignment. None of them moved. Something happened to the signal from her end.”

  “No. Do something. Get it back.”

  “I can’t make something appear that is no longer there. More than likely whoever has her found the cell phone and is smart enough to remove the battery.”

  “You don’t know that.” She strode the space between the beds, turning and pointing a finger at him like he was a child. “You don’t know that. Call DC. Get someone who’s a tech on it. Someone who knows computers and satellites better than you.”

  There is no one better than me.

  “There’s no one better than you? Oh so now you’re a computer expert, as well as super spy?” she snapped.

  Dammit, he hadn’t meant to say that out loud.

  Her sharp criticism stung. He vaulted from the bed, to stand mere inches from her, pushing her finger out of the way.

  “No, Abby. I’m a super spy, because of my computer skills.” She narrowed her eyes at him, but before she could strike again with her sarcasm probably about his IQ level, he held up his hand to stop her. “Even Einstein can’t make something appear that no longer exists.”

  “We have to go there. Now. We have to help her.” She turned on her heel in a rush.

  He resisted the urge to grab her arm and force her to listen to him as he watched her grab her phone, her purse and then the gun from the bedside drawer almost in desperation. The reality of his words hadn’t set in, but she really wasn’t going to like what he said next.

  “We can’t.”

  Something in the way he stated the fact paused her frantic movements about two feet away, focusing her gaze on him. “What do you mean we can’t? You have the coordinates. We may not know where the phone is now, but we know where it was.”

  “I mean we can’t go now in the daylight. I need to get you somewhere safe, then I’ll go check it out.”

  “She could be dead by then.”

  Reining in his own temper, he held her gaze, willing her to understand. Slowly her anger eased, her eyes softened and tears filled them as she realized he was right and there was no miracle answer. She lowered her eyes, breaking the bond between them and ripping something inside his chest.

  The connection broken, she walked past him to where his computer lay.

  “She was right there,” Abby stroked her hand over the laptop as if she could will the signal to return, a tremble
in her voice. And with it all his anger vanished.

  God, he hated seeing her pain. Only Abby could have such loyalty to someone who thought nothing of putting her in danger. Abby deserved so much better than this.

  Without hesitation, he pulled her up against his chest and once more wrapped his arms around her. Holding her tight he couldn’t miss the fine tremors that shook her body, pulling at the open place inside him. “Shh, sweetheart. We’ll find her.”

  “How?” Almost eye-to-eye with him, she only had to pull back to look at him and the despair he saw in her eyes sliced him deeper.

  “Somehow, I promise,” he murmured a moment before lowering his lips to hers.

  He’d meant to just comfort her, to reassure her, to give her some of his strength to get through this. What he hadn’t counted on was the fire that ripped through his blood when she parted her lips to let him invade. The heat of her breath, the sweet taste of her on his tongue, drove him on, making him want more. More of sweet Abby.

  She slid her tongue over his, matching him thrust for thrust, making him growl with desire. He clenched his hands in her shirt, wanting to pull her into him, to give in to the need to claim her.

  Then she pulled away, her hands pushing at his chest.

  “Please don’t,” she whispered, her breath caressing his lips, which were suddenly starving for her.

  “Don’t what?” He held her, not yet ready to lose the feel of her in his arms, pressed against him. “Don’t kiss you? Or don’t hold you?”

  “Don’t make promises you can’t keep. Don’t kiss me because you feel sorry for me,” she said, pushing against him again. Her words startled him into letting her go. “I’m a trained professional. I can handle this.”

  Watching her retreat to the other side of the room to wrap her arms around her torso and stare at the floor as she sank into herself, twisted that open spot inside his chest.

  She thought he was kissing her out of pity? Couldn’t she see how wrong she was?

  Stalking across the room, he stood inches from her, her bent head just below his chin. “Abby.”

  She shook her head, her gaze locked on the floor.

  “Dammit.” Cupping his hands around her face, he lifted her head. “Look at me.”

  When she did, he read both pain and a shadow of the place she’d retreated to inside.

  “You’re right. You are a trained professional. Your skills and that fascinating brain of yours will help us find your friend. And you’re right, you can handle this case. But you’re wrong about the kiss.”

  When she opened her mouth to protest. He hushed her with his thumbs on her lips.

  “I fought the battle to hold you and love you five years ago because we both had too much to learn, too much growing to do.” Her eyes widened at his confession. “So I’m not going to let you hide from this thing between us. If you thought I kissed you out some sort of pity, you couldn’t be more wrong.”

  Once again he lowered his mouth over hers, no hint of compassion in his. It was a conquering. Holding her head firmly in place, he plundered her soft, open mouth with all the pent up fear and desire he’d held in check since the moment he’d seen her standing in the middle of that bloodbath in her friend’s condo. He tasted her sweetness and heat, stroking her tongue with his in short and long thrusts, coaxing her to follow his lead, finally eliciting a tortured moan from her.

  The sound soothed the raging need to claim her, to force her to admit what he knew. Pity was the last thing he felt for her.

  Slowly he eased back, willing his heart—and his now throbbing cock—to realize retreat and patience would win the battle more than brute force. Sliding his lips off hers, he leaned his forehead against hers a moment, breathing deep. “I’ll let you go for now, Abigail. But this thing between us? It’s not over. Not by a long shot.”

  He released her, grabbed his laptop and phone then headed to the other room.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  “You’re still following the police and not the people he met with?”

  Snake hated when the boss got all I’m-smarter-than-you over the phone at him. He wasn’t some lame rookie. “Don’t sweat it, man. We’ve got eyes on them. Knew I couldn’t follow both, so Tracker picked them up outside the bar.”

  He knew his man wouldn’t get caught tailing the pair, the guy’d been tracking since he was a kid out hunting with his old man in the boondocks. Knew a thing or two about being invisible.

  The answer seemed to satisfy the bossman, since his attitude in his voice changed. “Did you get a picture of them?”

  “Couldn’t from the spot at the bar. Not without letting them know I was interested, you know what I mean. Ain’t no way you’d miss them though, she was one hot female.”

  There was a pause on the other end as the bossman considered that piece of info.

  “Tell Tracker to get me a picture anyway,” he finally said. “And let me know if they get on the move. The bitch still hasn’t told us what she did with the package and we have product to move.”

  The phone went dead in his ear.

  “Asshole.”

  The guy demanded respect, but didn’t have a clue how to return it. Snake shook his head. Someday he’d be at the top and his crew would look up to him without commanding it. He hit the button to call Tracker.

  “Where you hanging, Tracker?”

  “West side. Burger place ’cross the street from their hotel.”

  “The pair still inside?”

  “Beemer’s still where he parked it. No one’s come near it.”

  “Let me know if they do and the bossman wants a pic of them, if the opportunity presents itself. Once the cop settles in his crib for the night, I’ll spell you.”

  “S’all good. Got some eats. Place to hang. Like hunting.”

  That was Tracker. Simply the facts. Convo not necessary. “Word. Let me know if your prey goes on the move.”

  “Roger that.”

  This time Snake ended the call. Just in time, too. The cop exited the station on his way to his car again. Snake pulled out to follow several cars behind him.

  “Wonder where you’re off to?”

  * * * * *

  Aaron Jeffers glanced in the rearview mirror as he turned onto Superior Avenue, heading to Hollister-Klein. The brown Cutlass three cars back made the turn, had been making them since he left the precinct. Edgars was right. He had a tail.

  Question was—which case was he being tailed for? His guess it was the missing Mathews woman. He glanced at the picture of the beautiful blonde on top of the notebook he’d set on the passenger seat. What had she stumbled into? And who wanted her silenced? Hopefully her boss at Hollister-Klein would have some answers or a clue to help him narrow his search.

  As he turned into the parking lot of the company’s corporate headquarters he watched the car tailing him drive past the lot entrance and head on down the road. Once it passed he read the last three numbers of the plate—996. He parked then pulled out his phone, dialing the Department of Motor Vehicles. “Hey, Mary Jo, it’s Aaron Jeffers.”

  “Well, hey Detective Jeffers,” the lanky blonde answered in her Southern drawl that always made him think of hot sheets and sticky summer nights. “What can I do for y’all?”

  How he’d love to answer that honestly, but her husband was six-foot-four, built like an offensive lineman and ran a construction company. Rumor had it he loved three things—beer, brawling and Mary Jo, and not in that order.

  “Can you run a plate for me?”

  “Sure thing, sweetheart. What is it?”

  “Easy Sam Charlie 996.”

  “Take me a few minutes.”

  “Just text it to me when you can. I’ve got a meeting.”

  “Sure thing.”

  Disconnecting the call, he pocketed his phone. Mary Jo’s search would probably lead to the plates of a stolen vehicle or plates stolen from a vehicle. He’d also bet money that when he came back out, the Cutlass would be parked on the other side
of the street.

  Grabbing the notebook, he slipped the photo inside and headed in to meet with the Hollister-Klein Chief Financial Officer, Ryan Baxter and Brianna Mathews’ boss.

  Walking into the glass-and-steel high-rise left him with the same crawling-skin feeling he experienced every time he had to meet someone at a high-end lawyer’s office. Same marble floors, same dark-oak wood, same uncomfortable modernistic furniture in the lobby and same pretentious artwork on the walls. After he was shown into the Baxter’s office, he wasn’t disappointed when the arrogant ass waved him to a seat while he finished a phone call.

  “Just get back to me as soon as you get those reports done,” the man snapped into the phone, then set it aside. “Sorry about that Detective…”

  “Jeffers.”

  “Detective Jeffers, we’re a little shorthanded today and have quarterly earnings reports to get out.” Baxter leaned back in his chair and stared out over the mahogany desk at Aaron. “You said you wanted to talk with me about Brianna Mathews? I’m not sure what information I can give you. I have no idea what happened to her. All I know is what was reported on the news last night.”

  If the man wasn’t telling the truth, he was a very good liar. Luckily, he had a knack of always finding the truth, even against liars who were experts. Aaron plastered on his I-mean-you-no-harm look and opened the notebook on his lap. “I’m really here just to get some background on Ms. Mathews.”

  “I’ll be glad to help in any way I can, but I do have a late evening meeting in about fifteen minutes.”

  Too busy to talk about a missing, possibly injured, employee. The man dropped another few notches in his esteem. “Then let’s get to it. How long did Ms. Mathews work for Hollister-Klein?”

  “She started in the clerical division about six years ago.”

  “So she was a secretary?”

  Baxter leaned in and opened a file on his desk, reading from Brianna’s employment history. Either the man was telling the truth and didn’t know the victim well, or he wanted to make sure he distanced himself well in front of the police. “An entry-level accounting clerk, I believe. She was well organized and had some ability with numbers, so she was promoted steadily over the last few years.”