“Is that for me?” She nodded at the package.
“Just a little something.” He stepped up to her bed and handed her the gift.
“Thank you.”
Jax smiled as she ripped through the paper with no fussy peeling of the tape. So like her get-to-the-punch-line personality. She pulled out the notebook and packet of pens and stared, wide-eyed.
“Do you like it?”
Jax mentally kicked himself. Why had he let those words pop out of his mouth like some insecure teenager?
She raised her eyes to his. “I do.” She shook herself with a little gasp—pain or self-awareness, he couldn’t tell. “I mean, this is great. The perfect thing. You have no idea.”
Something like a collective exhale sighed from Daci’s siblings, reminding Jax of their presence. He cleared his throat and backed away from the bed.
“You really don’t know,” Ava said quietly.
“Our mamasis is a doodler,” Amalie added.
“A what?” Jax looked from one to the other.
Face flaming, Daci hugged the journal to her chest. “It’s a stress reliever. I doodle on paper, in frost on windows, on chalkboards, wherever I can make designs, while I give my emotions an outlet and let my brain loose. You know, to get free-form ideas. And then I write those ideas down. Weird, huh?”
“No, cool,” he told her. “Way cool. Glad I got it right.”
“Me, too.”
They exchanged grins.
Daci sobered. “What’s the update?”
Jax opened his mouth, but withheld the words as he glanced around at the audience present.
“Okay, sibs!” Amalie smacked her palms together. “We need to let these two alone to talk shop.”
“Shop. Right.” Ava giggled.
The journalist rose and yawned while stretching his arms wide. “I need a serious date with a pillow.”
“Noah flew the red-eye last night from London,” Daci said. “He called me from Heathrow airport before he took off, and I told him he didn’t need to leave England, but here he is.”
Her brother leaned over and pecked her on the cheek. “Couldn’t beat any of us away with a stick, you know.”
“I’m grateful. Hope I didn’t ruin your chances at the story you went overseas to get.”
“Had that wrapped up a couple days ago. I was just sightseeing. No problem.”
With similar words of support, the other three gently hugged their sister then headed for the door.
“Hey, Jaxton,” Nate said, holding the door as the others stepped out.
“Jax to my friends.”
“Jax it is.” The younger man flashed a quick smile. “Keep us in the loop. If there’s anything we can do to help...” His voice trailed off, not with uncertainty, but rather with a wordless warning not to keep secrets regarding their sister’s safety.
Noah popped his head back into the room. “Double ditto.”
Jax gave them a brief salute and a nod. The door closed behind them, and he turned toward Daci, who was shaking her head.
“Not too subtle, are they?” She huffed through her nose. “I see I’m in for some hovering.”
“Suffer on.” Jax chuckled. “They’re a great bunch. You did an awesome job on them.”
“I—” She hesitated. “I did what I could. Grandma helped when she was allowed near us. But being around you with your steady faith, and now coming so close to death myself, it’s made me rethink some things. I’m starting to realize that her faithful prayers probably did the most good of all.”
She bowed her head and plucked at the sheet drawn up to her waist. “I’m really proud of my siblings, you know. They’ve taken to heart what Grandma and I told them about becoming productive citizens in this world—not just lolling around a swimming pool, sipping drinks handed to them by servants paid for with money they never lifted a finger to earn.”
Jax cocked his head. “It’s not a bad thing to employ people.”
“No, but it’s a bad thing to believe you’re entitled to have others wait on you like you were born superior to other human beings. I’m sad to say, a couple of Marlowe generations forgot how to be real.”
Jax pulled a chair up to her bedside and sat down. “Clearly, there were others in your ancestry who knew how to handle money.”
“True enough.” She smiled. “The Marlowes did well for themselves in the early years of this country, but we would have been bankrupt decades ago if not for the foresight of my great-grandfather. He was quite a businessman and doubled the family’s considerable fortunes in his lifetime, but his only child was—according to the wording in great-grandfather’s will—a ‘dissolute rascal.’ So, he stipulated that the properties and principal of the estate be under the control of a board of trustees until such time as they decide with unanimous vote to pass control to a Marlowe they deem capable of ‘wisely handling material wealth.’ Again, that was my great-grandfather’s wording.”
“I wouldn’t be surprised if they decide that about you,” Jax said.
Daci shook her head. “I don’t want the headache of managing all those assets and property. It would be a full-time job. I’m quite comfortable the way things are. Annually, the interest on the principal is doled out to the direct descendants through trust funds each of us comes into at adulthood. The sum is quite generous, but when I was growing up, it seemed as if by the end of each year we were living like paupers until the next replenishment, which gives you an idea how my parents handled their money.
“My siblings have all come into their trust funds now, but they live like regular folks. In fact, they prefer a modest lifestyle—well, modest compared to what we could do. We haven’t discussed it—we don’t need to—but I know their extra cash is being used in ways that help others, not just themselves. That’s what wealth is for.” She sucked in a breath.
“Are you hurting?” Jax put a hand on her arm.
“No more than I should be.” She frowned. “Why do I do this?”
“Do what?”
“Yammer on to you about my family stuff. You’re too easy to talk to, Jax. Forgive me, and let’s talk about the job.”
“No forgiveness necessary.” Jax pulled up a chair and sat at her bedside. “Your family is fascinating...and admirable, too.”
“Admirable?” Daci snorted. “The past couple of generations of Marlowes tacked the prefix ‘dys’ onto ‘functional’ on an epic scale.”
“All the more reason to admire the way you and your siblings have turned out.”
“Thank you. I appreciate those kind words.”
The depth of sincere gratitude in her gaze pierced Jax’s heart. What he wouldn’t give to take this woman in his arms and kiss away her doubts and fears! He could be glad her wounded condition prevented any impulsive behavior on his part.
Daci’s intense expression relaxed into one of cool professionalism. “My guard detail outside the door told me the deputy who had his uniform stolen is concussed but recovering. Now I want to know how Serena and Chase are doing after that rude shock yesterday.”
Jax dropped his gaze, lips pressed together.
“What?”
He met her sharp look. “They’ve gone missing. No one has seen them since the park.”
Her eyes popped wide. “Naylor got to them?”
“Unknown. She could have freaked out and decided to do a runner.”
Daci pursed her lips. “Possible, but I’d go to the witness stand saying she’d only do that if she felt it was the best thing to protect Chase.”
“Glad we’re on the same page with that idea. Could be important when she’s tracked down and consequences are discussed.”
“Any sign of where she could be?”
“Her car was found early this morning parked in front of a convenience store. One of our guys interviewed the att
endant who was on duty last night. The attendant told him a jittery young woman fitting Serena’s description came in, bought a few snacks and a soda, then went back outside. She paced on the sidewalk, nibbling at a candy bar, until another car pulled up. At that point, she took something out of the back of her vehicle, but he didn’t see what—or who, assuming it was Chase in his car seat—and got into the other car. Then they drove off.”
“Someone picked her and Chase up?”
“For all we know, it could have been someone taking her to Naylor. We’re doing everything we can to find the vehicle, but we don’t have much of a description to go on.”
“Grrr!” Her hands fisted. “I wish I could be out there helping to find them.”
Jax covered one of her fists with his hand. “I wish you could be, too, but we have to get to the bottom of your case first.”
Daci let out a sigh. “Anyone pry more information out of the guy who tried to smother me yesterday?”
“A little. He says the bounty on you is being handled through a professional broker who calls himself The Connection. He’s got quite a reputation among those looking for murder-by-hire jobs.”
“Who is this guy?”
“That’s just it. Nobody ever meets with the person face-to-face. He uses a system of codes printed in newspapers, secret drop spots and encrypted electronic communication worthy of the CIA.”
“Whoever wants me dead is no two-bit hood if they’re using such a sophisticated and costly approach.”
“Exactly. Who in your life have you royally angered that has those kinds of resources? And how might that person be connected to your uncle and the small-time crook turned restauranteur who killed your grandmother? There’s got to be a connection.”
Daci threw up her hands. “I haven’t a clue. Over the years, I’ve had a few slick suitors who thought it would be a good idea to enhance their wallets with my money through marriage. But they weren’t that heartbroken by my rejection that they’d want to kill me. And the last one walked away years ago. They’ve long since moved on to easier game.”
“I still think this business must be linked with whoever masterminded the carjacking ring that went after your Lexus.”
She frowned. “Could my uncle have been part of the ring?”
Jax didn’t answer the question. It sounded rhetorical, anyway.
“Makes sense.” She bit her lower lip and looked away. “No wonder he was so vicious about trying to cast the blame on me for Grandma’s death. Anything but face his own guilt.”
“Are you sure you don’t have a degree in psychology?” Jax said softly.
“I do, actually.” She turned her gaze on him, amusement lighting her face. “I earned it completely online while I was shepherding my brat-pack through the maze of adolescence.”
Jax chuckled. “You never cease to amaze me.”
“I think I’m going to do it again.” Her gaze intensified. “I have a plan to catch the person who wants me dead, but I’m going to need bait.”
“What bait?”
“Me.”
Eight
Jax’s face went red then chalk white. “Don’t joke,” he bit out.
It was the reaction Daci had expected, but still it was exasperating not to have her ideas taken seriously.
She grabbed his sleeve. “What other bait can there be if the goal is my death?”
“What are you going to do? Stake yourself out like a sacrificial goat? You’ll only draw the hirelings, not the person behind the contract.”
“First of all, when I’m released I’m going home to recuperate.”
“Finally, you’re talking sense. Between the Marshals Service and the PD, we’ll have your apartment covered.”
“No. I’m going home—to the family estate in Boston, where I grew up. The place is a walled fortress with an excellent electronic security system. I know. The trustees have pretty much given me free rein around there, and I had it installed myself. Add some manpower from law enforcement, and it will be way easier to defend than my duplex. Besides, I don’t want to draw any danger down on my neighbors here.”
“Good thinking.” Jax nodded. “I’m not a bit surprised that your considerations go beyond your own well-being. That’s the kind of person you are.”
Daci ignored the little pulse ka-bump his praise elicited. “You’re still not getting it.” She started to lean forward, then pulled back at the stab of pain in her abdomen. If only she wasn’t so weak and hurting she’d feel a lot more confident in her plan, but it didn’t pay to let Jax in on her doubts.
“I believe the person who wants me dead lives in Boston. Even though the crime boss behind the carjacking ring was never uncovered, several chop shops were shut down in the course of the police investigation, and investigators concluded that Boston was the nexus of the operation. Samuel Clayhorn was originally from Boston, and my uncle lived there all of his life. All roads lead to Beantown.”
He leaned closer, brow crinkled. “I follow you so far.”
“I need to invite my killer into my fortress and let him try for me in person.”
Jax jerked back against his chair so fiercely the legs bucked and clattered against the floor. “Of all the harebrained... How... We don’t even know who...”
His spluttering would have been kind of cute if the lack of confidence in her planning skills wasn’t so annoying.
“Stop thinking like a protector and start thinking like a hunter.” She crossed her arms, then thought better of the effort and let them drop to her sides. A nap sounded like a winner right now, but she had to get Jax on board with her idea first. Otherwise, while she took her nap, he’d start moving mountains to keep her plan from going into effect. “Haven’t we all come to the conclusion that these attempts on my life must be linked to my past?”
Jax offered a reluctant nod.
“Okay, then, let’s follow that reasoning. Whoever is after me can afford a big bounty, but doesn’t have access to his or her own stable of hired killers, like your usual crime boss. Sounds like some of the high flyers my parents hung out with, right? More than a few of them didn’t come by their money honestly. How unlikely is it that the kingpin behind the carjacking ring was among them, and now that Clayhorn has drawn attention back to that old crime, he or she thinks I know something that could point the finger at them?”
He pursed his lips. “Possible. Maybe even probable.”
“Okay, then, I’m going to throw a party and invite them all to attend. Boston high society is pretty insular, and I know who they are, even though I’ve never socialized with them—other than making a few friends in the private schools I attended. The so-called Boston Brahmins will be falling all over themselves to accept an invitation back onto a property they’ve been barred from for years. I’ll give myself a couple of weeks to get some strength back, and—”
“A couple of weeks? You heard the doctor. A month, minimum.”
“We can’t wait that long. Make that, I can’t wait that long. It’s not fair to the Marshals Service or the PD to expect them to extend protection for such a long period. I could hire my own bodyguards, but living like that would drive me nutty. Besides, any of them might find the bounty on me appealing. The longer we wait, the more time we give one of those hirelings to find a way to get to me. No, we need to create an opportunity quite soon, tailor-made for the one who’s paying them—an opening too perfect to resist, even if it means getting his own hands dirty for once. How about a party that might be the social event of the season? Invitation only. Exclusive access. We control who goes in and out, and—”
“Hold it!” Jax held up a hand, palm out. “That scenario reeks. You’ve never been a party girl or close with the people who were your parents’ friends. Why would they believe you’re suddenly hosting them at a social event, especially when you’re recuperating from an attempt on your life
? Coming from you, this can’t be some random soiree. Only a cause will be believable.”
Daci grinned. “You’re on the right track.”
He shook a finger at her. “Don’t think I don’t know what you’re doing, Ms. Clever. You’re recruiting me through brainstorming.”
“Is it working?”
“Maybe.” He grunted. “What sort of cause have you come up with?”
“A charity auction. Boston society has been salivating for years to get their hands on some of the old treasures stored in the Marlowe family mansion. Off-loading some of them has been in my mind for a while, and I don’t anticipate any trouble convincing the board of directors to sanction the auction in order to establish a charitable foundation.”
“What organization will benefit from the proceeds? That’s got to be believable, too, as something you would really care about.”
“Remember my neighbors in the group home talking about this spiritual and social program at their church for mentally, socially and emotionally challenged adults? Everything from FAS to Down syndrome to autism?”
“I do. What was that called?” He snapped his fingers. “Uniquely Made! That was it.”
“I’m totally, legitimately jazzed over the idea.” Her heart beat faster. “In fact, I’d like to see the program assist these special-needs people from birth to the grave by creating a foundation offering grants to churches and nonprofits willing to run such programs. Naomi Minch’s day care would be eligible to apply because they are a faith-based nonprofit that offers care and developmental assistance to the youngest of the mentally and emotionally challenged.”
Jax’s face lit. “My organization could apply, too. We’ve been looking for ways to move beyond legal aid for this vulnerable segment of the population. My church would probably hop on the opportunity, too.”
Daci giggled, holding her side against a sharp pang. “Methinks the man has discovered his enthusiasm.”
“About the foundation.” He scowled. “Not about you setting yourself up as a target.”
“I don’t have to set myself up. I’m already a target. I’m just being proactive about where and when the attempt is made.”
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