Fatal Bond

by Gemma Halliday

  I landed with a harsh thud on my back. I paused a moment, assessing damage. Breathing hurt for a couple of minutes, but luckily the foam mostly absorbed any real damage and hopefully prevented future chiropractor bills.

  The circling children had frozen in their spots and stared at me, as did, well, everyone else. I sure knew how to put on a show. Caleigh and Sam reached down to help me up. By time the staff and volunteers had herded the children inside, my clothes had a cloudy layer of dirt on them, and my hair looked like I'd walked through a burning building.

  I glared at Sam. "We couldn't have just spied on them in a nice, clean church, huh?"

  * * *

  Caleigh offered to drive Sam back to the agency to pick up her car, and I was more than happy to let her. My muscles were suddenly achy, and my throat was dry. I needed a drink the size of my head.

  Once I was nestled in the safety of my roadster, I checked my phone. Still no news from Antonio.

  I called Candy. She picked up on the first ring, breathless like she'd been hounding her phone the same way I'd been hounding mine.

  "Have you found her?"

  I almost felt guilty letting her down. "Not yet." I quickly filled her in on our search of the Manchester mansion and Apple's apartment. "I have a friend in law enforcement I'm waiting to hear back from," I assured her.

  I heard Candy sniffle on the other end. "I'm really worried."

  I inhaled a heavy breath. "I know. But we will find her."

  She sounded less assured than I'd hoped when we hung up. I put in a couple more calls from my car, leaving a message for Mr. Manchester to please call me back—which I was pretty sure his assistant would delete before he heard—and checking in at local emergency rooms, just in case they had a brunette in spandex unconscious somewhere. No luck.

  There was nothing more I could do that night, so I headed home for a bath and a drink and hopefully some brilliant idea as to where to look for Apple next.

  I unlocked my apartment door, kicked off my pumps, and walked directly to a cabinet that stored my gun and my alcohol. The important things in life.

  I poured a full glass of wine and took a long sip while peeling off my disgusting clothes.

  A very long and hot soak later, I put on leggings and an off-the-shoulder cropped T-shirt and refilled my glass. I settled myself on the sofa and opened my laptop, scanning my emails until I found the one I was looking for. Maya's report on Wendell Manchester. I took a sip of wine, reading over the details of his life. Age: 57. Born and raised in Los Angeles. He was a movie producer, but then again so was half of LA. However, if his estate was any indication, he was a much more successful one than most. From what Maya had been able to find out, he seemed more like the money behind the films than any sort of creative force. While she'd attached several photos of the man at charity events, press junkets, and parties, nothing about his background suggested anything nefarious.

  I was beginning to think I was grasping at straws, when a knock sounded at my door.

  I set my glass down and went to answer it, halfway cringing that whoever was on the other side would bring bad news of Apple's whereabouts.

  But when I opened it, my breath hitched.

  Standing on the other side was Aiden Prince, LA's assistant district attorney. He wore a suit that said he'd just come from work, though the tie was missing and the top buttons were undone. Broad shouldered, blond, and bronzed, he might remind some people of a Ken doll…but nothing on Aiden was plastic, least of all those supple lips curving into a tiny grin now. As I well knew. I'd been the object of those lips' affection more than once.

  "Hi." He infused the one word with so much meaning in his low throaty voice that it sent goose bumps along my arms.

  I was instantly aware of my wet hair pressed against my back and the fact that I hadn't put on a bra.

  "Hi, back," I offered with a small smile. It hadn't been much more than a week since I'd seen him, but the way my body was already responding, you'd think it had been months.

  He leaned casually against my doorframe, seemingly in no hurry to barge in. "So, how was New Zealand?" he asked.

  I felt my smile freeze on my face. That was the question I'd been avoiding from Derek and the girls. But it was the one I'd dreaded the most coming from him. Especially with him looking as scrumptious as he did.

  Instead of answering right away, I turned and walked to the coffee table to pick up my glass. I needed a minute.

  He stepped farther inside and closed my door behind him.

  I took a big gulp, shut my eyes, and steeled myself for the worst.

  A week ago, I'd told Aiden I needed to get away and relax a little. But that had been a lie.

  The real reason I'd rushed off to points halfway around the globe was to chase after my best friend, Danny Flynn.

  I'd met Danny years ago when I'd first started my modeling career and he'd been an up-and-coming fashion photographer. Danny was fun and flirty and had a black book full of leggy models that rivaled War and Peace in size. He'd always been sort of a big brother, protector figure to me, and as we'd both grown into our own, our relationship had become closer over the years. Recently so close that lines had begun to blur between friendship and something more. Something I'd been fighting and denying I felt for months, even as Danny had retired his black book and made no secret about how he felt about me. In the back of my mind, I guess I'd always thought he'd be there once I sorted out my own mixed-up feelings. Only when I'd been close to sorting, he'd been gone. He'd taken a six-month-long photography assignment in New Zealand—about as far away from me as he could get.

  On a whim, with thoughts of over-the-top romantic gestures running through my head, I'd followed him. I hadn't been exactly sure what I expected out of it, but nothing had gone even close to well. I'd planned to surprise him on the set of his photography assignment, but before I could even say hello, I saw him making out with a tall, young, leggy model. Danny's new girlfriend. Not only had he not waited for me, he'd moved on…or moved back to his old ways. Either way, I'd been humiliated to the point of wanting to crawl into a deep, dark hole and forget men forever and just get a cat.

  Instead of my adventure turning out like the end of a Meg Ryan movie, I'd quickly slunk away before Danny could even see me and booked the next flight I could get back home.

  And now Aiden wanted to know how New Zealand was.

  I felt guilty even thinking about it. No way could I tell him that I went to New Zealand to follow Danny and profess my…strong liking. Mostly because now more than ever, I had no idea how I felt about Danny, Aiden, or any of it.

  And Aiden looked super hot tonight.

  "Yeah, it was nice. Beautiful place. Good weather. Would you like some wine?" I hoped my voice wasn't coming out as choked as it felt.

  He shrugged off his coat and set it over the back of the armchair. "Thanks."

  I started to step forward and pour it for him, but he did it for himself and then joined me on the sofa.

  He crossed his legs and leaned back, looking relaxed. A stark contrast to how I felt.

  "I missed you," he said.

  Guilt stabbed at my rib cage again. Along with something else that felt a lot like lust with a side of strong liking.

  "Me too," I said, realizing how much I meant that.

  See, this was why the whole New Zealand disaster happened. On one hand I had Aiden, Mr. Perfect. And on the other, Danny, my best friend and the wild card. Aiden was everything Danny wasn't, and vice versa.

  Only Danny was off kissing Leggy Model Thing, and Aiden was right here…

  He leaned in, and I believed I did as well. It was hard to decipher with the wine lowering my inhibitions. Our lips met, and immediately the kiss went from ground level to hair-raising and death-defying.

  His tongue tasted of tart lemons, and he smelled of a musky cologne, like leather and spice.

  Sensations mingled and tingled and twirled my insides into a frenzy.

  His hands gra
bbed my waist and pulled me closer.

  I wrapped my arms around his neck, and soon we were inclined on the sofa, with me beneath him. His weight on me felt calm and comforting while at the same time driving my body to move all on its own—my lips seeking his, my hands sliding up the strong muscles of his back. He placed his palm flat against my stomach, and I nearly leapt out of my skin. His touch was warm and firm, and I was practically squirming. He started to shift his hand under the hem of my shirt.

  And my cell rang.

  No, no, no, no!

  I didn't move, didn't stop kissing him.

  The ringing didn't stop either though, and I suddenly remembered Apple.

  I opened my eyes and pulled my mouth off his. "I'm sorry. I have to get that."

  He groaned and didn't look pleased, but he graciously leaned against the back cushions, giving me an escape route.

  I untangled myself from our embrace and grabbed my phone with a frustrated sigh. I frowned at the number I didn't recognize. It was too late to be a telemarketer. Unless it was Antonio getting back to me from a phone other than his own.

  I walked away from the couch, to the windows that overlooked the city, and answered, "Hello?"

  "Jamie Bond?" asked a voice I didn't recognize. The man sounded panicked though, which at this time of night couldn't be a good thing.

  "Yes? Who is this?" And how did he get my number?

  "I'm Wendell Manchester. You left your business card at my house today, right?"

  Stephanie had actually given it to him? I was impressed. Perhaps I misunderstood her. Just the same, I scanned the night sky for flying bacon.

  "Yes, I did. I need to speak to you about—"

  Before I could finish, he cut me off. "I don't know how you knew something was wrong this morning, but you're right. There's been a kidnapping."

  Chills slithered down my back. Candy had been right. Apple hadn't wandered off innocently on her own. She'd been taken.

  "You're sure?" I asked, feeling my throat suddenly dry.

  "Yes," he said emphatically. "The kidnapper just called with a ransom demand."

  CHAPTER FIVE

  My mind ran over the list of people who would abduct Apple for ransom. It didn't take very long, as I couldn't think of a single person.

  "Someone kidnapped Apple and is asking you for ransom?" I asked, trying to make sense of it.

  I heard the TV click on and glanced back to see Aiden still on the sofa with the remote in hand.

  "Who's Apple?" Wendell asked.

  I paused. "The missing woman." Had he forgotten her name? I supposed if he regularly hired women for ambiance, it was likely he wouldn't remember all of their names. Maybe he didn't even know their names in the first place.

  Wendell was silent, as if trying to remember. Or maybe he was still feeling the residue from Saturday night.

  "You hired her and her friend Candy to dance for you," I reminded him. "From The Spotted Pony."

  "No," he said. "Look, I don't know about this Apple woman, but my daughter has been kidnapped."

  "Your daughter?" I repeated. My mental hamster struggled to get back up on his wheel.

  "Yes. And the kidnappers just called me looking for ransom." He paused. "Isn't that why you came by this morning?"

  No. And I currently had no idea what was going on or what his kidnapped daughter had to do with Apple, but I was going to find out.

  "You're at home now?" I asked.

  "Yes," Wendell assured me.

  "Good. Stay there, and I'll be right over."

  Aiden looked up from the sofa. Gone was that sexy, want to rip my clothes off look, and in its place was the slightest frown between his perfectly sandy brows. Even frowning he looked sexy. Every part of my body sighed in disappointment—some parts more than others.

  "You can't tell anyone, especially law enforcement," Wendell said in my ear.

  I glanced at the ADA standing in my living room. "Sure. No problem."

  "I'm serious. The kidnapper said if the cops get involved, they'll kill her. I'm taking a gamble even calling you." His voice cracked.

  "I promise," I said and hung up.

  Aiden cocked his head to the side. "Everything okay?"

  I cleared my throat, buying me a moment to come up with a story. I really didn't want to leave my warm, cozy apartment or Aiden's arms. Why couldn't criminals keep normal nine-to-five business hours?

  "I'm sorry, but I need to go. I, uh, I'm needed on a case."

  "Was that one of the girls?" Aiden gestured to the phone.

  I nodded slowly. "Yyyyyes." I drew the word out unconvincingly.

  But if he suspected the lie, he didn't say so. Instead he stood and closed the distance between us. "I understand. Duty calls."

  "Rain check?" I asked.

  A smile tugged the left side of his mouth, and the smolder returned to his blue eyes. "Absolutely."

  He leaned in for another kiss. A light peck on the lips. But it still made my toes curl.

  "I'll call you," he promised as he walked out my door.

  I sighed heavily and dialed Caleigh while changing back into a pair of high-waisted skinny slacks and a silk T-shirt.

  Caleigh answered with, "Zane just gave Melinda a tulip. Can you believe that? Why can't he see how manipulative she is?"

  It took me a moment to realize she referred to some reality TV love show. "Sorry to have to tear you away, but Wendell called."

  "Manchester? Does he have Apple?" I could hear Caleigh giving me her full attention now.

  "Negative. In fact, not only does he not have Apple, his daughter's been kidnapped."

  "Wait—what?"

  "I know. Can you meet me at his place? I'll text you the address."

  "On my way, Boss."

  * * *

  Caleigh pulled up to the gate a couple of seconds after I did. This time getting in was a breeze. All I got out at the intercom speaker was my first name before I heard the buzzing and the gate slid open. Ground level LED lights lit the path, illuminating the base of the trees. It was beautiful, and if this had been a social call, I might have stopped to appreciate it.

  When we pulled up to the house, Stephanie stood waiting at the open door.

  "Mr. Manchester is in the living room," she said as we emerged from our vehicles. She pointed to our left, as if I'd forgotten the way.

  I stepped inside and was immediately struck by how immaculate the room now appeared. No sign of the party remained, and a new rug sat in place of the trashed one. Clearly the housekeepers had done their job well.

  Wendell Manchester was a thick, sturdy-looking man dressed in forest green sacks and a dark navy button-down, with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. A gold and black Rolex sat on his left wrist, and he held a crystal tumbler with amber-colored liquid. Upon seeing us, he stood from his spot in one of the leather armchairs.

  I wasn't sure if it was just a bad habit, but his gaze immediately flicked from my legs to my breasts before meeting my eyes. I watched him do a similar assessment of Caleigh before stepping forward and offering his hand to me. "Wendell Manchester."

  I shook with a firm grip of my own that I hoped conveyed he'd better keep his eyes up here from now on. "Jamie Bond. And this is my associate Caleigh Presley."

  "Any relation to Elvis?" he asked as he pumped her hand.

  She grinned broadly at him. "Yes, thank you for asking."

  I'd assumed he'd been joking when he asked. Most people were, but I couldn't tell if he was startled by her answer or not. He lifted his glass and downed the rest of his drink. "Thank you for coming so quickly."

  "Of course."

  "Can I get you something to drink?" he asked while walking to a bar in the back corner of the room.

  "I've made coffee," Stephanie said from the doorway. She carried a tray in to the table.

  Wendell snorted and grabbed a bottle of whiskey.

  Stephanie poured four cups of dark, rich-smelling liquid into blue mugs and added two tablespoons of
sugar to one of them. She set it in front of where Manchester had been sitting. Then for herself she topped off another cup with cream from a small pitcher.

  Wendell returned to his seat. He ignored the coffee until Stephanie put a hand on his glass as he raised it to his mouth. "You need a clear head."

  He allowed her to take away the whiskey and sighed. I wasn't picking up any romantic or sexual vibes between the two, but the way he allowed her to take care of him suggested some type of bond. He ran a hand through his thinning brown hair.

  "You said you received a call saying your daughter had been kidnapped?" I prompted him.

  He nodded. "Yes."

  "Tell me about it," I asked.

  "I did. On the phone," he said, sounding mildly annoyed. I chalked it up to being upset and nervous about his daughter.

  "Again please. Don't leave anything out, even if it seems unimportant," I said.

  He took a deep breath. "Okay, like I already told you, I got a call saying that they had my daughter."

  "How old is your daughter?" Caleigh jumped in.

  "She's twenty-five."

  "Did you recognize the voice?" I asked.

  He shook his head. "They used something to disguise it. At first I thought it was one of those automatic calls, like a telemarketer, but it came in on my cell. The number is private."

  "Go on."

  "They said that if I didn't transfer five million dollars to their bank account, they'd kill my daughter." He looked away and continued. "I could hear her crying in the background, and it broke my heart. They said they'd call back with details for the transfer."

  "Did you hear any other distinguishable sounds in the background?" I asked.

  He thought for a moment and shook his head. "Nothing."

  "What time was this call?"

  "Just before I called you."

  "Did your phone register the number of the caller?" Caleigh asked.

  "Unavailable," he said.

  No big surprise there.

  "What did they tell you about the bank account?" I asked, thinking it might be a way to trace them.