Retrograde (Galaxy)

by Desiree Holt

  Everyone was silent for a long moment. Peyton was still trying to process what she’d seen on the laptop screen, along with all the information that had been dumped. She felt as if she’d fallen into an alternate universe. She wrote about things like this. She didn’t live them. And although she always tried to breathe reality into her stories, most of it was fiction. This was not. A shiver raced over her skin and she rubbed her arms.

  “You okay?” Blaze’s voice was low and soft but everyone heard him.

  She swallowed hard and reached for the coffee to take a steadying sip, but it was ice cold, so she put it right back down.

  “Let me get you a refill.” Eagle reached for her cup, giving her a warm smile as he did. “Don’t sweat it. We’ve all been there. Stuff like that never gets easy to see, even when the people are strangers.”

  “Thank you.”

  When he set the refilled cup back down in front of her, she gripped it with both hands and swallowed some. Immediately, her jittery nerves began to settle. But the arm that Blaze slid around her, giving her a gentle hug, did even more. She wasn’t a needy person, was used to taking care of everything herself, even her emotions. But this was an emotionally challenging situation and she wasn’t afraid to lean on him.

  Peyton knew after the previous evening that Viper sensed something going on between her and Blaze, and now she figured Eagle and Rocket were wondering about it. Blaze could tell them whatever he wanted and she’d just follow his lead, but she needed him right now. Needed his strength.

  “Better?” Eagle asked as he took his seat across from her.

  “Much. Thank you. Coffee’s always the best medicine.”

  “Okay.” Blaze gave her a final, light squeeze and turned back to the others. “We need to tap into every resource we can to identify that license plate.”

  “I agree.” Eagle looked at everyone in turn. “But it’s going to take software more sophisticated than what I have. I’ll have to reach out to a contact of mine.”

  “Then do it,” Blaze told him. “If your software won’t do it, we need someone’s who will, and we don’t have any time to screw around. Also, any luck in finding out what happened to Dane’s car?”

  “Yeah, but it doesn’t help. Peter Kendrick ‘kindly’ offered to return it to the leasing company and his parents were grateful they didn’t have to deal with it.”

  Rocket snorted. “How fucking nice of him.”

  “That means he’s got Dane’s cell phone and laptop, so we can kiss those goodbye.”

  “Yeah, but it’s more important to find out about the car that ran down the Hollisters.” Eagle pushed out of his chair. “Let me go in the back and give him a call.”

  Eagle climbed out of his chair and headed back to the galley. Peyton saw him lean against the counter, pull out his phone and hit some buttons.

  Peyton glanced at Blaze. “I didn’t think you could make cell phone calls at this altitude.”

  “The phones are tied into the plane’s wireless network, which is as powerful as we could get. We can’t be without phones, even at thirty thousand feet.”

  “Good. That’s good.”

  “We need to—” Blaze started.

  He was interrupted by the ringing of Rocket’s phone.

  “I’d better take this,” Rocket told them, looking at the screen. “It’s Tom Hernandez.”

  Peyton watched him answer the call. Every muscle in his face tightened and anger flashed in his eyes.

  “Fucking shit.” He gripped the cell so hard Peyton was afraid he’d break it. “Are you fucking kidding me? Yeah. Yeah. Okay. But I want to know every nugget you dig up the minute you find it. Okay. Thanks.”

  Everyone watched as he practically slammed the phone down on the table.

  “What is it? I know it had to be bad to make you lose it like this.”

  “What’s up?” Eagle asked at last.

  “That was Tom Hernandez. Apparently, someone’s been asking questions about us. Well, originally about Peyton and who she hired to look into the murder, because that’s what it is.”

  “Me?” Peyton thought for a moment her heart would stop. “What are they looking for?

  “What?” Eagle blinked. “What the fuck? How did anyone even connect us?”

  Rocket shrugged. “Actually, they’ve been asking about Peyton. They—”

  He stopped when Blaze’s phone rang.

  Blaze looked at the readout, eyebrows pinched together.

  “What’s up?” he answered. “What? What do you mean? What did she say? Did she have a name? Uh-huh. Uh-huh. Uh-huh. Okay. No, you did exactly right. An even better reason for you to hang out there. Yeah, I’ll be by to pick it up in a while. Don’t let it out of your sight.”

  “What?” Rocket asked.

  “That was Chuck Wagner at the hospital. One of the nurses he’s gotten to know stopped to see if he needed anything and they got into kind of a Chatty Cathy thing. She said she was on her way to Brianne Hollister’s room and commented that the sister’s fans must follow her everywhere. Chuck asked why, and she said one of them came to the hospital with a present for Brianne. To show Miss West how much she cared. She was on her way to give it to her.”

  A chill raced over Peyton as she listened. “God. That’s too scary. I hope Chuck stopped her from giving it to Brianne.”

  “Next best thing. He watched to make sure all she did was set the package on the bed table. Then as soon as she left, he hopped into the room and grabbed it. Stuck it in the bathroom sink to drench it with water, just in case. Then he placed it in a messenger bag he’s got with him. I don’t think these people would send an explosive device to the hospital. That would garner too much attention. He’s sending it to a company Galaxy has used whenever necessary. He’ll call me when he has some answers.”

  “Fuck.” Rocket slammed his fist on the table. “Did the nurse happen to get a name? Anything at all?”

  Blaze raked his fingers through his hair. “No. She said she asked twice, but the woman seemed too nervous to give it to her. She wasn’t too nervous, however, to tell the nurse she hoped Peyton West was turning over every stone to find out who did this, and that she was getting some really good help. Because what happened to her was awful. Just awful. And there hadn’t hardly been anything in the news about it. Such a damn shame. Poor Peyton must be heartbroken. I don’t like it.”

  “Neither do I,” Eagle added.

  Peyton looked from one to the other, nausea welling up in her throat yet again.

  “What does this mean?” She hated that her voice sounded so pitiful. She cleared her throat and spoke again. “Tell me exactly what this all means? Why is someone asking about me? About Brianne.”

  Blaze cleared his throat. “My guess? Whoever made sure the police wouldn’t tell you anything and bribed or threatened everyone else involved got feedback you’d hired someone and they’re digging to find out who.” He glanced sideways at Peyton. “One of the main reasons our office and everything related to this business is right here in this plane.”

  “And by the way, I have a lot of fans and none of them have ever done anything like that. I’m successful but not a superstar.”

  “There’s always a first time,” Rocket pointed out.

  “That’s true, but this is just so strange.” A thought popped into her mind and the fear surged back yet again. “What if whoever this is tries to kill her again?”

  “I’m going to take care of that right now.” Blaze punched a number into his cell. “Yeah, Nolan. Good. I didn’t want to have to page you. Listen. You have to move Brianne Hollister, and I mean now. I have good reason to believe whoever killed her husband will try for her in the hospital. What? Yeah. Uh huh. Okay, thanks. Oh, and I’m calling Chuck Wagner to go sit in her room right now and glue himself to her while she’s moved. Thanks.”

  His words sent a chill slithering along Peyton’s backbone. Blaze had been worried about it enough to have someone standing guard outside her door twenty-fo
ur-seven, but what if some nut actually got into her room?

  Peyton gripped Blaze’s arm. “Thank you. I mean it. I can’t—I—”

  God. She sounded like a blithering idiot.

  Blaze wound his fingers around her hand and gave it a gentle squeeze.

  “We won’t let anything happen to her. That’s a promise.”

  Eagle rose and headed toward the cockpit. “I’ll tell Saint it’s time to head back.”

  Blaze nodded. “Thanks. Once we get on the ground, we have a lot of work to do. I want to know who’s pulling all these strings. Kendrick may have put it in motion, but I don’t think he’s got the kind of clout to find out what he wants on his own. Plus, he can’t afford to show his face to do it, and frankly, I don’t think he’s dirty enough, if at all, to connect to people who can do this.”

  “So someone’s helping,” Rocket agreed. “Someone with a lot of money and a lot of back room power. I’ll stop by and see Tom as soon as we land and get everything I can from him. He might even have some ideas of his own.”

  “And we have to find out who is nosing around Brianne before before—” Blaze stopped.

  “Before they actually get to her,” Peyton finished for him. “It’s okay. You can say it. I’m past the initial shock and fear, and I want to do whatever I can to help.”

  “We all do,” Viper assured her.

  She looked around the table at each of them. “I can’t thank you enough for taking me on as a client and helping me. I just—” She stopped and hauled in a breath. “I told Blaze and I’ll tell you. Whatever you charge, if I don’t have it, I’ll find a way to get it. Really. Thank you.”

  “I told you,” Blaze said. “Don’t worry about it. We’re good to go. The important thing is identifying the killer. And figuring out who the fuck is digging around about us and how they knew you hired us, Peyton. And who the hell sent a package.” He looked around at the others. “So, everyone, let’s make a list of who’s doing what so when we land, we get to work.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Peter Kendrick was not a happy man. At least five times a day, he asked himself how things had spiraled so out of control. One minute he had a prestigious law practice where his biggest problem was how much money he could get in a settlement for a client. The next he was trying to keep his son from being arrested for murder. Now he sat on the screened patio of his son’s home, each of them holding a glass with ice cubes and fine aged bourbon. It was a tossup which of them needed it most. At this point, he wasn’t sure if an entire bottle would help his nerves.

  He looked over at his son.

  He has good reason to be nervous.

  Peter thought it, although he didn’t want to say it. Things were edgy enough between them as it was. He’d insisted Owen stay away from the office, which—thank the lord—his son hadn’t argued about. And he had a logical excuse. He was distraught about the death of his friend, Dane Hollister, and the fact that Dane’s wife was in a coma that so far had been irreversible.

  If people mentioned they weren’t aware the two couples were friends, Peter had a ready answer. Dane was very particular about not appearing to curry favor. He wanted to earn a partnership on his own, not because he and the senior partner’s son were friends, but it was important to keep following directions.

  So Owen and Diane were hiding out south of Tampa on Sanibel Island in a vacation home they’d built there. Peter hoped that by the time this was over, the marriage would still be intact, as edgy as Owen was every time he talked to him. But now things had changed, which was why he’d had his son drive to Tampa. This was not a conversation to have on the phone.

  “Did you hear what I said? We have a new problem.”

  “Yeah? What kind of problem?”

  “Brianne Hollister’s sister is here and she’s shaking a lot of trees. We managed to block her for the most part, but she’s tenacious. She’s not giving up.”

  “What the fuck can she do?” Owen snapped.

  Peter gave his son a look that should have shriveled him.

  “She’s smart, she’s focused and she’s not letting this go. And Sulzberger, who pulled all the strings up until now, has opted out.”

  Owen stared at his father for a long moment, rose from the chair and began pacing, thrusting his fingers through his hair in a nervous gesture. He never came undone like this, but hell and damnation! He’d never been in a situation like this before, either. Peter could see that he was holding on by a thread, one which he’d have to somehow strengthen, especially with Sulzberger deserting him.

  “Are you telling me he just told you he’s done with this?” There was no hiding the panic in his eyes. “He owes you. A lot. You told me that. What the fuck do we do now? I thought this was all dead and buried. A hit and run by an unknown driver. Lay low a bit and it will all settle down. Now we’re in another fucking mess?”

  “You should have thought of that before you ran over two people,” Kendrick snapped. “If you hadn’t gotten stinking drunk and done the most absurd, outrageous thing in the world, we wouldn’t be having this discussion at all. I’ll never understand what possessed you. No.” He shook his head. “Back up. If you hadn’t been seduced by high-stakes gambling, if you hadn’t fallen into Hayden Kellerman’s trap, if you didn’t owe him a bundle of money, none of this would have happened. Fate was definitely shitting on you when it sent Brianne Hollister down Gandy Boulevard at the exact moment Kellerman’s thugs were threatening you.”

  “Fucking pictures. I thought I’d convinced Dane it was nothing. How did I know he’d bring the pictures to you after he talked to me? You said he questioned the connection. Thought it should be looked into. That I might be in trouble. If what he knew, or thought he knew, got out, it would ruin my life. You know that.”

  “He wouldn’t have done anything.” Kendrick reached for his control. “Didn’t you trust me to handle it? I said I’d take care of it, didn’t I? Did you forget the political campaign we’ve been building for you, that I’ve put so much time and effort into?”

  “Ah, yes,” Owen sneered. “The beloved politics.”

  “Don’t give me that attitude. You want this as much as I do. Just take a deep breath and listen to me.”

  “Listen?” Owen raked his fingers through his hair. “Even you can’t control the Tampa Mafia. What if Dane didn’t like your answers about those pictures? If they got out, they’d have opened the door to a lot of shit. Kellerman would have jumped all over us and they would have created a major scandal for you. The firm. I— We would have lost everything. Everything! My career would have been in the toilet and yours along with it.”

  “Where would he go with them? He was too smart and too conscious of his position here to rock the boat. He’d have figured it was my problem to handle and left it to me. Of course—and I can’t say this enough times—we wouldn’t have had a problem at all if you had any kind of discipline. If you hadn’t been drawn by the high-stakes card games. Hadn’t gotten yourself in debt to that scum.”

  “But—”

  “But nothing. Weren’t you smart enough to know what was up? Didn’t you think it was funny that they’d invite my son, after I turned down their request to represent them, to an elite card game?” He waved his hand in the air. “What did you think? That they just wanted to be friends? How stupid are you, anyway? I thought you were smarter than that.”

  Owen just stood there, not saying a word, a muscle in his jaw twitching furiously. Anger and fear warred in his son’s eyes.

  “And those pictures,” he went on. “I could have found an excuse for them. You know me. I can create paper out of thin air.”

  Kendrick rose and walked to the built-in bar in his den. He poured short drinks into two more rocks glasses and handed one to his son. He sipped his slowly as he gathered his thoughts. Ever since the night Owen had burst in with the devastating news, his life had been in turmoil. His practice was in more danger than if the Tampa Mafia connection had finished wreaking its veng
eance on the firm and using Owen to do it. He’d gotten Sulzberger involved and now the SEALs the man had betrayed might pin a target on him. Not to mention, they were not the kind of people he could control.

  He took another slow sip to help him force a calm he didn’t feel. When he spoke, he chose his words carefully, locking his anger away for the moment.

  “Then you had to go and take stupid to a higher level. I’d have thought you were smart enough to know that murder only exacerbates a problem. Someone always has to pay for it. I’ll say again, killing Dane and almost killing his wife was the worst thing you could do.”

  “Enough already,” Owen shouted, raking his fingers through his hair. “You don’t need to keep repeating yourself.”

  “Apparently I do, since you still don’t want to listen to me.” Kendrick shook his head. “It has taken a lot of money and a lot of pressure to wipe any trace of you from that event. You’re not so dumb you aren’t aware of that. And now we have other problems, which is why I wanted you to drive up to see me. Peyton West has hired men who can’t be bought or influenced and who don’t give up. Ever. That’s why I wanted Diane to come with you.”

  “I told you and told you. I want to leave Diane out of this.” He practically spat the words. “She has nothing to do with this. In fact, she begged to come with me, but I’m keeping her as far away as possible. That’s how it is.”

  “No, that’s not an option.”

  Kendrick was doing his best to hold on to his rapidly fraying temper. What the fuck was with this whole thing about keeping his wife out of it? One of the things he liked about Diane was her pedigree and her classy image. She came from wealth and blended easily into the parts of society that were so important, not just for Owen’s legal practice but for the forthcoming political campaign. She needed to be here, showing her support for her husband.

  Owen glared at him. “I’m telling you—”

  “Forget it.” Kendrick snapped the words. “The choice is no longer yours. I want her up here. Warren Sulzberger pulled every string he could to get this thing covered up. Do you have any idea how hard it was to bury the CCTV tapes? Neutralize witnesses? Have the cops bury it? Not to mention getting rid of your damned car. You think it wasn’t a big problem? I wanted you gone until we got the worst of the mess cleared up, but now you need to be here before people start asking questions. And the public needs to see your wife standing in solidarity with you in the current situation. Mourning the sad death of one of your colleagues.”