But Sean Devlin knew all about Danny—knew all the things any proud mother told her friends. Or the people she believed to be her friends.
Guilt and fear punched him hard in the gut. He let her go, taking a step away from her. She slid to the floor, sobbing.
“Your son. I’m so damn sorry.” Alex plunged his hands into his hair, afraid to say more as his mind tried to sort what he wanted to say and what he could say. Anger grew in him until it eclipsed everything else. He was going to hurt somebody for this.
Neither of them moved for several moments. Only the rattling hum of the air conditioner broke the silence.
Grace wiped her eyes on her sleeve and looked up at Alex. “Somebody wants you, and they took Danny to make sure I brought you to them.”
It hurt so much to say his name aloud. She wanted to hide her son away inside of herself, to keep him all to herself again.
“Why didn’t you just shoot me and take my carcass in to get your bounty?” His voice cut through her like Italian steel.
Anger pushed her to her feet, and she swept up his dropped Glock on the way. She would get her son back, even if this was the only way to do it. “He’s not a bounty—he’s my son. And they want you alive and able to talk or you’d be dead already.”
Alex held out his hand, palm up. “Give me the gun.”
It took all her resolve not to let her hand shake as she pointed the Glock at him. “I want you to get ready to travel. Now.”
“You can’t shoot me, honey.”
Could she? This was Alex, after all. The only man who’d ever stirred up those happily ever after feelings in her. His shooting her—with her own gun—all those years ago wouldn’t make it any easier to pull the trigger of his own gun now.
“You can’t shoot me,” he continued, “because whoever wants me, wants me alive. Even a non-fatal shot could lead to heavy blood loss or infection. You can’t take the risk.”
“You said you’d go with me.” Grace’s stomach rolled as she realized there was no easy way—if any—of doing this without Alex’s cooperation.
“I will, Grace. And you need to tell me everything. But first I want my damn gun back. Don’t make me take it from you.”
Chapter Three
The challenge hung between them, but she really had no choice. Emotion aside, Alex had given her a very logical reason why she couldn’t shoot him. There wasn’t much sense in keeping the gun.
Unless he planned to shoot her again. That’d be one way to make this problem go away and save his own skin. “I’ll give it back to you later.”
Alex folded his arms across his chest and she knew the debate was over. “Then I won’t go. You either trust me, or you don’t.”
“I trusted you once. Remember London? I wouldn’t trust you to take out my garbage.”
Something like confusion passed over his face, then was gone. “I guess I’ll have to wish you good luck, sweetheart.”
She cursed a blue streak while handing over the Glock. She didn’t need good luck. She needed him to do what he was told.
“Still quite the lady, I see. I think your Sig went under the loveseat.”
She fished it out while Alex put some clothes on. It was hard, but she managed not to drift to the doorway to watch. Danny was her sole focus, and she wasn’t about to let anything cloud her judgment.
“You look like hell,” he said, reappearing in jeans and a snug, white T-shirt. “Pour us each a coffee and let’s talk.”
There was a fresh pot in the kitchen, and she added extra milk and sugar to his because she remembered he liked his light and painfully sweet. She remembered a lot about Alex Rossi. Too much.
She set his cup on the table and took a deep breath. The only way to get through this was from the beginning.
He didn’t interrupt while she related Rustikov’s visit. She even managed to get through most of it without choking up. Most of it.
“What time did they take him?” he asked when she had finished.
“It had to have between eight and eight-thirty. He never made it to school.”
She paused, taking a sip of coffee to hide her need to calm herself.
“I called one of his classmates, and managed in a roundabout way to find out he wasn’t in class today. So they somehow got a woman to call in and pretend to be me.”
He looked up from the ammo clip he was loading to cock a questioning eyebrow at her.
“If a child doesn’t show up for attendance, the school calls home. He wasn’t there, but nobody called me.”
“Did you call the school to verify they made calls for all the absentees?”
“No, I… Everybody thinks I do web design from home. I’ve even done some for people in town. If I called the school, they’d know Danny’s missing. There’d be reports, police, and a lot of explanations I’m not ready to give yet.”
“Why didn’t you tell…why didn’t you call Devlin?”
Grace winced. She knew as soon as she started talking he’d ask this question, and there was no possible answer but the truth. But he wouldn’t like it.
“I needed to come on my own…alone.”
“Don’t you think having everybody in on this would up your chances of getting the boy back? You’re a pro, Grace, and you know this shit.”
“I’m a mom, too, and I know that nobody with the Devlin Group, especially Sean himself, would willingly sacrifice you for my son. I’m the only person willing to do that.”
A smile tugged at his lips. “And you thought I’d simply cooperate, and go to my death without question?”
“No, I… You just… I want my boy back, Alex.”
He set his mug on the table, then walked over to her. He crouched, cupping her chin in his hands. “We will get him back, sweetheart. Together.”
She had to blink away a wave of fresh tears. With his touch warm on her face, her heart ached to believe in him. But her mind knew better.
“I’m going to call Devlin, and get more people on this,” he continued, looking away from her. “He can figure out who’s free and put the tech support on alert.”
She nodded, unshed tears clogging her throat.
“And, Grace, if it comes down to me or the child, trust in me. Please.”
Trust wasn’t something she had in spades when it came to Alex Rossi, but she had no other choice right now.
He stood and took a step back. “I’ll call Devlin while you wash out those mugs and the carafe. I have orders for no housekeeping unless I request it—too many tools of the trade lying around. Then we figure out a Plan A. Did you bring the picture? The technicians might be able to get something from that.”
Grace swallowed hard and nodded. Some part of her had known this moment would come—had known Alex wouldn’t just roll over and play dead for her.
She walked to the door where she’d dropped her bag and unzipped the outer pocket. The picture was already folding at the edges. She’d looked at it a thousand times during the chartered flight, staring into her son’s frightened face.
And it was that face that made her have to stop and take a deep breath before she could turn back to Rossi. “Alex, I…”
He took it from her on his way by and she could do nothing but wait, her heart hammering in her chest. He had fired up his laptop and plugged in a scanner before he looked at the photograph of Danny. His son. Their son.
She knew the instant it hit him.
His shoulders hunched as if he’d taken a blow to the gut, and she heard his ragged intake of breath. Alex’s head bowed until his forehead rested on the picture.
Grace knew what he saw. She had lived with it every day of her son’s life. Rossi’s thick ebony hair, his olive complexion. The dark chocolate eyes. Even the faint hint of dimples that kept their faces from being too unforgiving.
How many nights had she watched her son sleep, then gone to bed haunted by an older, hardened version of that face?
“How could you?” Alex demanded in a voice both cold and hoar
se. Then he swore and stood so abruptly his chair skittered backward and fell. “How in God’s name could you do this?”
Every muscle in her body trembled, but Grace kept her spine ramrod straight. “I did what I thought was best for my son.”
Immediately, she cursed inwardly, wishing she could snatch the words from the air before they reached his ears.
“Your son? No, Grace. Our son.”
She opened her mouth, with no idea what might come out of it, but he spun and stormed into the bedroom. He took the picture with him, and slammed the door behind him so hard a cheaply framed print rattled and fell to the floor.
Grace made it to the loveseat before her knees buckled. Pressing her hands to her overheated cheeks, she finally let the torrent of tears fall.
The first crash was accompanied by a howl of rage, and she flinched back against the seat. It sounded like the bedside lamp, and was quickly followed by the smashing of something small—probably the telephone.
She didn’t notice the suite door opening until it had swung halfway. She leapt to her feet, the Sig jumping into her hand almost of its own accord. Even as fear shot through her, she was amazed by how quickly her body and mind had dragged out the old bag of skills.
Carmen was first through the door, and Grace nearly collapsed with relief. Gallagher was tight on her heels, closing the door behind them.
“Hey, we…” he began, but the words died when he saw Grace. “Wow! Long time, no see, lady.”
The next crash was louder, and sounded as if it involved furniture. Grace winced as the two agents looked at the bedroom door. “He’s not in a great mood right now.”
“What are you doing here, Grace?” Carmen asked in alarm. “Where’s Danny?”
She didn’t want to tell the story again so soon, but she knew these two people were going to be instrumental in getting her son back. Taking a deep breath, she launched into another gut-wrenching retelling of the morning’s events. It wasn’t any easier the second time.
Alex sank on the edge of the bed, his breath ragged from the exertion of venting his anger. Picking up the photograph, he traced his son’s mouth with the tip of his finger. It was the only thing he’d gotten from Grace.
She was carrying my child that night in London. Alex shuddered and drove back the bile in his throat by force of will. Grace had been pregnant when he’d looked at her down the sight of her own Sig.
Sorrow and regret swept away the last of his anger, and he closed his eyes against the memories of that hideous night. He thought of Danny—of the life he’d followed through emails and phone calls as Sean Devlin.
Now he knew why there were so few photos. And never a school portrait. Only the occasional candid shot. When Danny’s Little League team had won their first game, Grace had sent Devlin a photo of the team in a huddle, showing only their backs. A Halloween picture with Danny’s face obscured by his mask.
The Rossi likeness was so strong Grace would have feared Sean guessing the truth and telling Alex. Juggling two identities had never been easy, but this was one hell of a tangled web they’d managed to weave. And he’d never taken the time to wonder why a woman with the best technology the government could provide couldn’t scan and send a school picture of her son.
Our son.
Alex stood and made his way through the wreckage of his room to the door. Right now there could be no past, only the present. They would get Danny back, and then the time would come for Grace and him to lay their cards on the table. Nothing stood between Alex and an objective, and his only objective now was to hold his son.
He was surprised to see Gallagher and Carmen in the sitting room. They weren’t supposed to be back for another hour or so. They were both unharmed and a steel case was propped against the television stand.
“Any problems?” he demanded.
Gallagher shook his head. “None. The package is secured and we can meet with the company rep anytime.”
Alex stood with Danny’s picture in his hand, random thoughts trying to coalesce in his head. “I don’t think we’ll return it just yet.”
Grace and Carmen watched him expectantly, but Gallagher was nodding agreement. “The timing ain’t a coincidence. You get made surveilling this deal, now Grace’s kid gets snatched at the same time this theft goes down?”
“What are you talking about?” Grace demanded. “What deal?”
“We heard a thief named Johnny Washburn was getting into something big, with some big people. He met with a rep from the buyer, and he recognized me. He got away, but we were able to bring Washburn in.”
“He sang like a girl,” Gallagher put in with a gleam of satisfaction in his eyes.
“The biotoxin we just stole?” Carmen reminded her. “Well, the pencil pusher was going to sell it to Washburn for peanuts, and he was going to sell it to this big shot. For a much more considerable profit, of course.”
Grace looked at Alex, confusion apparent on her face. “But if you knew about it ahead of time, why didn’t you stop it?”
He knew what she was thinking. If he’d reported the pencil pusher’s intentions to the company immediately, there was a good possibility none of this would be happening.
“Washburn would be a dead man. And I’d have lost my only lead on this guy. I’ve been chasing him a long time, Grace, and I knew Carmen could get it back before it changed hands again. And we still don’t know the two are connected.”
“But you believe they are.”
He nodded reluctantly. “Like Gallagher said, there’s the timing. And I knew the voice of the man who recognized me at the café. I didn’t recognize the face, though.”
He let the silence grow for a moment while he considered keeping the man’s identity to himself. The bastard was supposed to be dead after all. But his instincts told him he was right, and she had a right to know.
“It hit me this morning—where I knew his voice from. I listened to the surveillance tapes again just to be sure. It was Ricardo Escobar, Grace.”
The color drained from her face. Alex took a step toward her, but Carmen was already beside her. Grace’s breathing was suddenly shallow and he cursed himself for not finding a better way to tell her.
“No freakin’ way, man,” Gallagher said, shaking his head.
“I didn’t believe it at first, either. But I’m not wrong.”
Gallagher stood in his usual at ease position, rocking back and forth on his heels as he considered it. “Even with the velocity reduction caused by the bullet passing first through Grace’s shoulder, you said it was a solid chest shot. And the fire on top of that?”
“His face has been totally reconstructed. Big dollar job, and he looks nothing like he did before.
“You really think Escobar has Danny?” Grace interrupted in an unnaturally high voice.
He crouched to look eye-to-eye with her. “I don’t know, but I think so. And no matter who has Danny, we’re going to get him back.”
When she nodded, he stood and paced for a minute, gathering his thoughts and letting the beginnings of a plan take form in his mind. “Did you bring them up to speed?”
“Mostly,” Grace whispered.
“Let’s get on it, then. Gallagher, scan this photo and get it to as many technical and support people as we can muster. Call in favors. If there’s any clue at all to be found in the picture, I want it found.”
“On it.” Gallagher took the picture and lifted the scanner lid before glancing at it.
Alex saw him pause and heard the muttered curse. The two men locked gazes for a few seconds before Alex nodded. Gallagher’s eyebrow raised a notch, but he only said, “We’ll get him back.”
“Damn right. After you get that sent Carmen can monitor the computer. You go back to Johnny Washburn and squeeze him hard. I want to know anything he’s heard and I want to know where Ricardo Escobar is. I’m going to start making calls and pulling favors.”
“Shouldn’t Devlin do the phone contacts while we hit the streets?” Grac
e asked.
Alex’s brain froze for a second, and he flailed for an answer. “He, uh…can make all the official contacts we think we’ll need, but I’ll do the local calls. I’ll probably use the bedroom, so you and Carmen can work out here.”
He was going to have to do some serious juggling to keep Grace from finding out he was Sean Devlin, because now wasn’t the time to deal her another emotional blow.
Carmen pointed to the steel case holding the deadly biotoxin. “What do we do with that?”
“Leave it there. It doesn’t leave our hands until I figure out if and how it’s connected to Danny’s kidnapping.”
The agent’s eyes widened. “Tell me you won’t trade the case if it becomes a ransom situation.”
Would he? It was hard to weigh the collateral damage against the life of his son. “I prefer to think of it as insurance. Now get to work. I want Danny’s location ASAP.”
He turned to face Grace, still trying to bury the emotions that could get in the way of the job. “Can you work, or have you gone soft with no thrill—no fear—in your life?”
“No fear? You arrogant son of a bitch. I know all about fear. It’s standing over your sleeping newborn, and he’s so still and silent you’re sure he’s dead until you tickle his feet to make him twitch. And then, when the fear of SIDS fades, there’s cancer and speeding cars and sending him to school for the first time. I’ve lived with fear every second since his birth, and I still…”
She had to stop—had no choice because the unshed tears clogged her throat. “I still failed. The boogeyman got him, Alex. I couldn’t keep him safe.”
Without planning it, or even knowing he would do it, Alex crossed the room and hauled Grace up into his arms. Her eyes met his, and beneath the terror he could see the fiery rebel he’d known her to be surfacing. He pulled her close, wrapping his arms around her.
“You and me…we’re not okay. When this is over there’s going to be shouting and tears and a whole lot of bad words. But right now it’s all about Danny. We’ll get him back, sweetheart,” he murmured into her hair, and he wasn’t quite sure if he was reassuring her or himself. “I swear. Now, can you work?”
72 Hours Page 3