“What do you mean, you don’t know? You planted cameras there, didn’t you? Oh, hold on, now I get it. You were checking out Barbie’s dream house instead, huh?”
“Fuck you,” Seth said, through gritted teeth.
“Christ, Mackey. You sex-crazed bonehead. Are you with me on this or not?”
“I can’t watch the island in real time,” Seth snarled. “It’s eighty-five miles away. I don’t have portable power sources that can transmit that distance for more than a couple of days at a time, and security out there is too tight to sucker-up off the local power. If I want to know who came to the fucking island, I have to go out there in person, gather the data, bring it back and process it.”
Connor clucked his tongue. “My, my, aren’t we defensive.”
“Like I said before, McCloud—”
“Yeah, yeah. Fuck me. I heard you the first time. Get your ass out there and get that data. We need to know if Lazar had a visitor between nine and ten. That would square with what my source told me.”
“What else did your source tell you?” Seth demanded.
“Curious, curious,” Connor taunted.
“Don’t be an asshole,” Seth snapped.
Connor made a snorting sound that could have been a laugh. “OK. Get this. Novak had a thing for her.”
“For Corazon?” Seth was incredulous. “No way. She was too famous for a sewer rat like him. He would never have risked it.”
“He risked it, evidently. Very hush-hush, of course. He sent her the crown jewels of fallen empires, solid gold death masks of famous pharoahs, the Shroud of fucking Turin, you name it. He had it bad.”
“And Lazar was the guy who procured that shit for him?”
“Bingo,” Connor said in approving tones. “You’re a smart boy, when you’re not zoning out in Barbie-land.”
Seth was too intrigued to respond to the jibe. “So why weren’t you guys using her as bait?”
“It was a secret affair. We didn’t know, and now she’s dead, so get off my case, OK?”
“I’m not on your case.” Seth drummed his fingers against the table, fascinated. “So Novak was the one who really wasted her?”
“Here’s another juicy detail to brighten up your night, Mackey. I’ll do a recap for you, since you don’t watch the news. Remember Corazon’s boyfriend, the ice hockey star Ralph Kinnear? He was found at the scene, naked and covered with her blood, with his fingerprints all over the murder weapon. Didn’t remember a goddamn thing.”
“Ouch,” Seth murmured.
“Yeah. Looked really bad for the poor schmuck, but guess what? Somebody called Kinnear’s defense team right away. Gave them an anonymous tip to check his face for microscopic flakes of glass from an exploding ampule of soporific gas.”
Seth digested that information for a moment. “That’s weird.”
“Sure was. They found the glass flakes and they found traces of the drug in his stomach, too. Ralphie’s off the hook, thanks to the mystery caller. And now the gun’s gone missing. Weirder and weirder.”
“So you’re thinking that Lazar stole that gun to sell to Novak? As a memento of his lost love? Christ.”
“Yeah, it’s romantic, huh? Get that data, Mackey, and let me know if Lazar had a visitor tonight.”
The click of the broken connection set Seth’s teeth on edge. He almost called the bastard back, just to tell him not to issue any more orders. Problem was, McCloud would probably laugh in his face. He was going straight to the island anyway. No time for stupid stuff.
That, of course, caused his mind to veer back to the most stupid stuff of all. He looked back at the sleeping woman in the monitor. Maybe Lazar had ordered her to seduce him, and she was just getting into character. That would fit with what Lazar had said after the meeting this morning—how did the bastard put it? About the mixing of business and pleasure. How the charming Raine would be glad to help him find the perfect balance, if he liked. If he liked. A laugh jerked out of him, so rusty from disuse that it sounded more like a cough. Lazar had seen just exactly how much he “liked.” And that sucked.
It was well known that Lazar got off on providing sexual entertainment for friends and business associates. It bound them to him and gave him power over them. He had wondered what he would do if Lazar tried to tempt him that way.
Well, now he knew. Having his nose rubbed in the truth had put him in a savage, pissed-off mood all day. Raine Cameron was no innocent fairy-tale princess waiting to be rescued. His romantic fantasies were dashed.
It was better to face reality all in one bitter lump. He could no more refuse an offer to fuck Raine Cameron, no matter what she was, no matter what the terms, than he could stop breathing. Score one point for Lazar, he conceded grimly. And if he had to lose a point to that manipulative prick, he’d damn well better make it worth his while.
Now that he thought about it, the setup was liberating. He would pull her down off her pedestal and fuck her brains out. Clear the fog of lust from his brain. He was free to indulge himself without the slightest guilt. No obligations, no courtship rituals, none of that tedious man/woman stuff he didn’t have the time or energy for. He could even expect a certain professional expertise on her part, given the circumstances. That was going to be interesting. In fact, he was getting hard again, just thinking about it. Hard and hot…and furious.
Damn. The hotter he got, the angrier he felt. Not the cold, purposeful feeling that spurred him to avenge Jesse. This was restless and maddening, swirling in his brain like a red fog. This kind of anger was bad news. It altered judgment. It caused errors. It started fires.
He had to play it icy cold, and wait for the ideal revenge plot to reveal itself to him. Sooner or later he would get the perfect opportunity to destroy all three men responsible for Jesse’s murder. Already it was an excellent sign that, out of the scant handful of qualified TSCM consulting firms that existed, Lazar had chosen him. Seth had been hoping for that, working towards it, but not counting on it.
He didn’t know yet exactly what the perfect revenge would look like, but he would know it when he saw it. He was used to living in uncertainty. He’d grown up in it. Home territory.
He was grateful for the task of sneaking out to Stone Island. That would calm him down like nothing else could. The wall of security that surrounded the place was a refreshing challenge, even for him. It brought back memories of all those counterespionage missions back in his stint with the Army Rangers. Kearn, his business partner and number one techno-genius, had not yet completely solved the energy source problem for the long-range cams, so some lucky bastard always got to sneak into the sites for data retrieval. Seth didn’t mind the task. In fact, he loved it. So much so that he was going to be genuinely sorry when Kearn invented the inevitable solution. Those moments sneaking around on the edge of disaster were the only real peace that he had; when past and future collapsed and he operated on pure instinct. Utterly in the present moment, untroubled by painful memories or emotions. He craved those moments the way other people craved sleep.
In fact, he liked it way too much. He knew it. Hank and Jesse had known it, too. They had tried to save him, but now they were both gone, and he was past saving.
He stared at the sleeping woman on the screen, jaw clenched. Get your beauty rest, babe, he urged her silently. Tomorrow is going to be a day that you will never, ever forget.
He started gathering up the equipment he would need to make the electronic assault on Stone Island, but his eye kept straying back to the monitor. Her white shoulder was completely exposed now. The sheet had fallen down to the curve of her slender waist. He wanted to pull the sheet up and put a blanket over her.
She was going to get chilled, sleeping uncovered like that.
“One second, please,” Raine pleaded, typing desperately on the laptop. “If you’re going to switch from French to German, I need to switch settings for a new set of diacritical markings. It’ll take just a moment.”
Victor sighed as he lea
ned back against the plush seat of the limo, a faint look of annoyance flashing across his face. He sipped his drink, crossed his leg and tapped his Gucci-shod foot impatiently.
Raine clicked “German” in the languages list, called up a new document and poised her fingers over the keys, hoping Victor wouldn’t notice the tremor in her hands. “Go ahead.”
But Victor did not resume dictating. He stared at her, his eyes sharp and penetrating. It took all of her dwindling nerve to meet his gaze. Forty minutes of close proximity with her charismatic uncle would be a challenge even if she weren’t secretly plotting his downfall.
“It’s rare for an American to be fluent in so many languages,” he commented.
Raine blinked. “I, uh, spent a lot of time in Europe when I was young,” she stammered.
“Ah, really? Where?”
She had prepared for this question, and had decided that there was no reason not to tell the truth whenever possible. “First in France, near Lyon. Then Nice for a while, and Holland, with lots of stops in between. We were in Florence for a couple of years, and then Switzerland. Then London.”
“Ah. Were your parents in the foreign service?”
Why the hell wouldn’t he start dictating again? Why did he have to focus those piercing eyes on her now, when she was all alone with him? “Um…no,” she faltered. “My mother really liked to travel.”
“And your father? Did he enjoy traveling as well?”
She took a deep, unsteady breath. Keep it simple, keep it true, she reminded herself. “My father died when I was very young.”
“Ah. I’m sorry.”
She nodded a brief acknowledgment, hoping to God that he would start dictating again and leave her be.
He did not. He examined her face with a dissatisfied frown. “Your spectacles. Are you capable of performing your duties without them?”
The non sequitur bewildered her. “I, uh, suppose so. I’m nearsighted, so I only really need them for long distance viewing—”
“Your vision problems are of absolutely no interest to me. Kindly do not wear those glasses in my presence again.”
Raine stared at him. “My…you don’t like my glasses?”
“Just so. They are hideous. Contacts would be acceptable.” He smiled, pleasant and magnanimous.
She forced herself to close her mouth. Maybe this was a perverse psychological test. No normal executive assistant would ever submit to such an inappropriate, invasive demand—unless she were a gutless creampuff, of course. But in Victor’s world, there was no “normal.” He was like a black hole, bending the familiar world out of recognition.
He waited, tapping his foot, eyebrow raised.
She had stopped using her contacts and gotten these hideous glasses for the specific purpose of keeping Victor from noticing any resemblance to her mother. She took off the glasses and tucked them slowly into her purse. The world blurred and swam. The limo came to a stop, and her heart leaped into her throat.
She closed the computer and got out of the limo. She knew they were in the warehouse parking lot, but all she could see was a blur of hulking gray squares against a blinding white sky. The air smelled of petroleum and damp concrete.
She felt him before she saw him, as she had in the elevator and the kitchen, and her blurred vision intensified the shivering rush of awareness. Memories of last night’s unhinged sexual fantasies spun through her mind. All her senses opened up like thirsty flowers.
The tall, dark figure moved towards them and coalesced into Seth Mackey, casually elegant in black jeans, a dark gray sweater, a black leather jacket. He was close enough now so she could see the loose waffle weave of his sweater, the beard shadow on his angular jaw. His eyes flicked over her dismissively, but she felt the strength of his interest like a hidden riptide.
The two men greeted each other, and he held out his hand to her. His face showed no trace of yesterday’s teasing warmth, and his dark eyes were shadowed and grim. Probably just focused on business, she told herself. She ignored the apprehension that fluttered in her belly and pasted on a bright, generic smile.
The touch of his big, warm hand was a shock of hot recognition. It lasted no more than two seconds, and by the time he let go of her hand, her generic smile had undergone a massive meltdown and her heart was tripping madly over itself. The two men were striding towards the warehouse, and she scurried after them.
Victor turned around. “Wait here, Raine, if you please.”
She blinked, and looked around at the vast, empty lot. “But I—”
“My conversation with Mr. Mackey is confidential,” he said gently.
“Then why did you bring me along?” She regretted the words as soon as they left her mouth.
Victor’s face hardened. “My commuting time is valuable. I maximize it whenever possible by bringing secretarial support. Kindly do not ask me to explain my decisions to you ever again. Is that clear?”
She blushed furiously and nodded, acutely conscious of Seth Mackey’s quiet, intense presence, listening to Victor’s reprimand. She watched them walk away, feeling helpless and foolish. Damn. The pirate queen would have thought of some quick and clever way to eavesdrop on their confidential conversation. She certainly would never have been intimidated into taking off her glasses.
Then again, the pirate queen would have been shrewd enough to stow her contacts in her purse. She knew how to plan ahead. She was bold, but crafty. Brave, but patient. She could fight when the need arose, but she didn’t waste her strength or resources in useless battles. And she wasn’t afraid to seize what she wanted, whether it be truth and justice, or a tall, dark and sexy security consultant.
Raine sat down in the backseat of the limo with a sigh, and composed herself to wait. Seth Mackey didn’t know it yet, but he was about to be seduced by a pirate queen.
“The first step is to conduct a detailed vulnerability analysis and threat assessment,” Seth said. “That involves inspecting every part of your facility to identify weaknesses. Locks, doors, alarms, the telephone system, network and computer security, everything.”
Lazar frowned slightly and looked around the huge warehouse. “How long will it take? My security problems are very pressing.”
Seth shrugged. “It depends. At least a few days to cover the corporate headquarters and all the warehouses. Do you want to include your private residences in the threat assessment? I recommend it.”
Lazar’s eyes narrowed. “Let me think about that.”
Seth gave the murdering bastard his very best, ultra-friendly Mr. Professional smile. “When we get down to the actual debugging, I’ll call my crew for backup. We’ll start with the radio frequency sweep, then the wire and conductor check. Then we’ll do a detailed physical search for hardwired mikes and remote shutdown transmitters.”
Lazar held open the back door of the warehouse, gesturing for Seth to exit first. “And how do you propose to maintain secrecy under those conditions?”
The man’s condescending tone made Seth feel like he was chewing glass. He turned and waited for Lazar to draw abreast of him. No way was he turning his back on that treacherous asshole. “That’s your judgment call,” he said. “We tend to find remote switchable devices more easily if we sweep during business hours, but your adversary could switch off the remotes, or even vaporize the microphone elements with charged, high-voltage capacitators, if he’s onto your survey. It’s a toss-up. Think about it.”
“I see,” Lazar murmured. “I certainly shall think about it.”
“When it comes to the RF sweep, our spectrum analyzer is the best I’ve used,” Seth went on. “And I’ve used them all.”
“Oh, I’m sure your firm is everything it claims to be.”
Seth pushed doggedly on with his standard promo spiel. “We use a nonlinear junction detector and an infrared probe in addition to the RF sweep. We’ll use time domain reflectometry for the telephones. I need a history of the system installation and a cable chart for the phone matrix as soo
n as possible.”
Lazar nodded. “I’ll have it ready for you in the morning.” They fell silent as they walked past one of the very warehouses that Seth and the McCloud brothers had shamelessly robbed only six weeks before. Funny, how even though it was all an act, his brain still clicked automatically into TSCM mode, starting the process of developing a comprehensive strategy for isolation and nullification.
God knows, this would be the easiest bug sweep his team had ever done, since he knew exactly where all the bugs were. He would find plenty of evidence to satisfy the client, plant a hell of a lot more, and make the bastard pay through the nose for the service. It was beautiful.
With this contract, Lazar was financing his own ruin. Seth liked that. It appealed to his sense of justice, and solved several pressing problems at once. He had been neglecting several aspects of his business since Jesse’s death—namely, the money-making ones—and he was running through his own personal fortune at an alarming rate.
He was his own biggest pain-in-the-ass nonpaying client. Kearn and the others were at their wits’ end with him. This deal would float the investigation once again—by securing Lazar’s facility against Seth’s own spying, thieving depredations. His mouth practically watered at the thought of bug-sweeping the Stone Island house. God, what havoc he could wreak.
He and the McClouds had enjoyed themselves hugely on those warehouse raids, and even more on the burglary of Lazar’s townhouse. Once Seth had analyzed the existing security and rigged his own surveillance equipment, it had been almost too easy. Each subsequent warehouse break-in had been tougher, and more fun. With Kearn and Leslie’s new ultra-sensitive thermal imaging goggles, it had been pathetically easy to see where the security guards lurked. It wasn’t very sporting, maybe, but hey, he could deal with that. It hadn’t been sporting to slaughter his little brother, either.
They turned the corner to the front of the warehouse where the limo was parked. The blonde scrambled out of the backseat as they approached. She pulled off her glasses and shoved them into her purse. She looked totally different without them. Soft, misty and succulent. She had been biting her lower lip so hard that it was red and puffy.
Behind Closed Doors (The Mccloud Series Book 1) Page 6