Fatal Bond

by Gemma Halliday

  As I reluctantly approached the boat, Derek shouted down, "Come on up, James."

  I slowly climbed aboard. My insides felt jittery, and my skin was itchy. I carefully picked my way across the planks on my teetering heels.

  Danny stood when I met them up top. As angry, embarrassed, and conflicted as I was over the whole fiasco of our timing, I had to admit that he looked great. So tan and relaxed. He gave me a slow smile that made my insides melt. God, I hated his supermodel girlfriend.

  He held out his arms and leaned forward for a hug, completely oblivious to any awkwardness I was feeling. He smelled of fresh laundry and soap. His hair had grown a little, curled up around his collar, and it tickled my nose.

  "Hey, Bond. Looking good. How are you?"

  "Good," I said and swallowed the lump in my throat. "How was New Zealand?"

  Derek watched me intently. I tried to ignore his side-eye.

  Danny sat back down, and I perched on the edge of a deck chair across from them. I didn't intend on staying long enough to get comfortable. At the first opportunity to bail, I was out of there.

  Danny ran a hand through his hair. The sun was setting, and it cast an amber glow on his light brown sun-streaked strands. "It was great. A lot of sun. Good food."

  "You, uh, you're back early?"

  He nodded. "Yeah, unfortunately, the job ended early. I guess the magazine decided they could shoot surfers just as easily in California after all. And cheaper." He gave me a knowing grin.

  The one I returned felt weak and uneasy. I ducked my head, hoping the growing dusk would cover it.

  "What have you been up to?" Danny asked, making small talk like a pro.

  "Oh, you know. Work." I shot Derek a look, letting him silently know in no uncertain terms that if he breathed a word of my trek halfway across the world to track Danny down, it would be the last breath he took.

  Derek cleared his throat and sucked his beer.

  "Well, you look good," Danny told me, grinning in my direction again.

  So did he. Too good. And why did he keep complimenting me when he had a leggy supermodel girlfriend?

  A thought hit me. Had she come home with him? Was she lurking somewhere just below deck on the Black Pearl right now, fixing herself a cute little wine spritzer? The thought made me feel physically ill. I couldn't handle this much longer.

  I turned to Derek. "I just stopped by to let you know I…might have a lead on a caterer for Elaine's surprise party." Half true. The last thing I wanted to do now that I was faced with the ghost of humiliations past was get into a lengthy discussion about Apple, Manchester, and the whole kidnapping ordeal. The faster I could make an excuse to get out of there, the better.

  "A caterer?" Derek asked.

  "Tasty Catering."

  Derek frowned. "I thought we were doing wings and fries at McKinley's."

  Sometimes I seriously wondered if we actually shared DNA. "Derek, do you really think Elaine wants wings at a dive bar over a catered event?" I asked.

  "Who doesn't love wings?"

  Danny smirked.

  "Sure. Every girl loves a buffalo sauce manicure on her special day."

  Derek pointed at me as if he was getting ready to argue with me, but he then gave a half nod and lowered his hand. "Okay, yeah. I guess it is a special occasion. Tell you what? You pick the spot and the snacks. I trust you, James."

  Trust? Not a word he used very often. Almost never, in fact. Which made me wonder if he was up to something.

  "What's the occasion?" Danny asked, still making polite conversation.

  "It's her birthday," I said, still eyeing my father.

  "And I've got something special planned." Derek grinned, sipped his beer, and looked at me like he knew something I didn't. Like a second-grader with a secret that he was dying to tell me.

  "What, exactly, do you have planned?" I asked.

  There was a mischievous glint in his eye when he said, "You'll have to wait and see."

  I rolled my eyes. "Please tell me it's not male strippers."

  Danny laughed out loud.

  "James," Derek said, wagging a finger at me. "No, it's nothing naughty. It's nice."

  Derek's ideas of naughty and nice often overlapped. "Maybe you should just run it by me first?" I asked for Elaine's sake.

  But he shook his head. "You're just gonna have to trust me on this one, kid."

  There was that word again.

  I opened my mouth to protest, but he ran right over me. "Look, it's gonna be something big. Something she'll love. Something forever."

  My thoughts froze as he uttered that last word. Forever. Oh lord. Was it possible Derek was planning to propose to Elaine? Maybe I was reading too much into it. Sure, Elaine was the first woman I'd seen my dad show an interest in for more than a week in…well, probably ever…but this was Derek Bond we were talking about. He, the perpetual bachelor. Ladies' man to all females over forty. The guy who wouldn't even commit to a brand of cereal.

  He winked at me and sipped his beer again, making my stomach clench. Not that I begrudged the guy some happiness—but because I had a strong feeling he might be turned down. And I knew just how horrible rejection felt. And humiliating, I thought, sneaking a glance at Danny.

  Derek slapped the arms of his deck chair and rose. "Time to release junior."

  It took me a moment to realize he needed to use the bathroom. "Gross."

  Danny chuckled. "Your father is one of a kind," he said once Derek was out of earshot.

  "Thank God for small favors. The world couldn't handle two of him."

  Danny laughed again.

  "What are you doing here?" I asked.

  Surprise caught in his eyes for a moment. "What do you mean?"

  I gestured to the boat. "I mean here. You and Derek BFFs now, or what?"

  His relaxed smile smoothed over his features again. "Hardly. He said he wanted to get my opinion on some old art prints he has. I guess he's looking to sell them."

  I narrowed my eyes. "He tell you why?"

  Danny shrugged. "Just said he was looking to raise a little cash."

  Like for a ring? Oh, this was sounding worse and worse.

  "Anyway, from what I can tell, he hasn't poisoned my beer yet, so it's all good." Danny raised his bottle in a cheers motion.

  I grinned at his joke, and then we both fell into an awkward silence. Well, awkward on my end at least. As far as I could tell, Danny didn't feel a thing between us. Which hit me two ways. Clearly he hadn't seen me in New Zealand and didn't know I'd stalked him just to witness him lip-locked with Leggy Model Thing. On the other hand, any romantic feelings he'd harbored toward me in the past seemed to have fizzled away as well—leaving me feeling more or less a casual acquaintance in the wake of what used to be my closest friend. All of which left me with a jumbled soup of emotions that I shoved to the side as Derek returned.

  "Well, I should get going," I said, standing. "Long day, and I need to be up early."

  "Hey, what about the party venue?" Derek asked.

  "I'll, uh, get Maya on it," I promised, taking steps backward.

  Derek turned to Danny. "You're coming, right?"

  Danny looked from me to Derek. "Love to. Can't wait to see what this surprise is."

  "Great!" Derek nodded emphatically in my direction. "Add Danny to the guest list, James."

  "Sure thing," I promised as I walked away, ugly thoughts of him arriving with a young, hot plus-one swirling in my brain as I dashed, as best as one could on a boat and pier in heels, to my car.

  As I settled behind the wheel, my cell rang.

  I checked the readout. Aiden.

  I briefly thought about answering, but as my gaze went back to the Black Pearl, guilt twisted in my stomach.

  I let the call go to voicemail and headed home.

  * * *

  The next morning, I awoke to a face full of sunlight. I tried to squinch my eyes shut against the onslaught of what felt like much too happy rays to fit my mood as
images of the last few days flooded back to me. Danny looking hot and relaxed with a beer in hand. Aiden's gym-made, suit-clad frame leaning casually against my sofa. And Apple, missing, alone, and on borrowed time.

  It had been an entire day since we'd heard from the kidnappers. Either they were having some trouble getting their ducks in a row with their demands, or they were one step ahead of us and had already realized they didn't have Kendall Manchester.

  That last thought propelled me out of bed and toward the shower. If Apple was out there, I was going to find her. Today.

  An hour and a half later, I walked into the agency dressed in a red silk tank, a pair of off-white cropped skinny pants, and a light matching blazer that I feared I'd be shedding before noon if the morning heat was any indication. The first sound I heard was the comforting clacking of Maya's keyboard. It was almost like she lived at her desk. God bless her.

  "Hey, Boss," she said as she spotted me. She stood and handed me a paper cup filled with liquid heaven.

  I sipped, grateful. "Thanks." I paused, savoring the warm, heady scent swirling up from the plastic lid for a moment. "Messages?"

  Maya shook her head. "Nothing new overnight. But I do have a couple of status reports."

  I nodded. "Okay, get the girls and meet me in my office."

  "Caleigh's not in yet, but I'll grab Sam."

  "That's right," I said, forgetting for a minute. "Caleigh's babysitting Kendall Manchester." I realized I hadn't heard anything from her all evening. I wondered how the night with the princess had turned out. "She may be late today," I decided, imagining the worst as I stepped into my office.

  I set my coffee down on my desk and shrugged off my jacket.

  Maya and Sam came in a minute later, and Maya placed printouts on my desk. The girls each took a seat, and Maya read from her tablet. "Okay, first, Janice Holbrook."

  I grabbed the small stack of papers, planning to follow along, but my brain hadn't absorbed enough caffeine yet. I set them down and leaned back in my seat. "Hit me."

  "Like I mentioned the other day, there are no red flags. No criminal behavior and just the traffic violation."

  "All pretty normal," I said.

  Maya nodded. "I did get her financial info, and it turns out she's not flush with cash. A checking account with under a hundred bucks in it, and her savings has just enough to pay her rent for a couple months. She doesn't make much as a seamstress, and what she does make looks to go to bills as soon as it hits her accounts. She's got a significant amount of credit card debt. No family in the state, no children, and has never been married. Lived a pretty quiet life by all accounts."

  I thought of that Kate Spade purse I'd seen her toting. Definitely a knockoff. And didn't speak to a woman content to live a quiet life.

  "Sounds like she could be a good fit for the Hampshires," Sam said.

  I swirled my coffee. "Sounds like she could use their money."

  Sam raised an eyebrow my way. "You think she's a gold digger?"

  I shrugged. "Call me a skeptic."

  Maya frowned. "She goes to church on Sunday like clockwork."

  I shot her a look. "And no one who ever went to church ever did anything bad."

  Maya rolled her eyes. "Okay, okay. I get it."

  "Look, maybe she's on the up-and-up and the financial upgrade would just be a bonus to marrying into the household." I paused. "But I'd be curious to know how she and Harold met. Who initiated first contact."

  "I'll see what I can find out," Maya promised.

  "What else?" I asked. While there was an obligation to the Hampshires, I was eager to hear about anything related to Apple. "Did you look into Wendell's business dealings yesterday?"

  Maya nodded. "I did. And it turns out that he's in trouble with the IRS. He's not been 100 percent truthful with them in the past about his income."

  Big surprise. Lying seemed to be his default.

  "How much is he in the hole for?" I asked.

  Maya shrugged. "I wasn't able to get an exact dollar amount, but it's in the six-figure range."

  Sam whistled low. "That's a big range."

  "No kidding," Maya agreed. "He's been tied up with lawyers and accountants for months, but it doesn't look likely the IRS is going to settle low on this one. Wendell's had offshore accounts for years, and tax collectors love to make an example of a guy like him."

  "So, Wendell is strapped for cash," I said, mulling that tidbit over. I wondered how much was in those offshore accounts. And if the kidnappers knew about them. Of course, if the IRS also knew, they were likely frozen now, no matter where they were.

  "Oh, it gets better," Maya said, grinning.

  I sipped my coffee. "Do tell."

  "Well, I did a little research into tax law, and did you know that ransom payments are considered tax deductible?"

  I raised a brow. I'd admit, I did not.

  "Wait—you're saying that if someone kidnaps my kid, and I pay ransom, I can claim that next to my charitable donations to Goodwill?" Sam blinked at Maya as if she were crazy.

  "I know, weird, right? But it's true. I guess ransom demands happen enough to the one percent that someone dropped that into the law."

  "So, if Wendell Manchester did pay a ransom to get his daughter back, he could claim a five million dollar deduction on his taxes?"

  Maya nodded. "Which would go a long way toward fixing his current tax troubles."

  Suddenly a new angle opened up. What if Wendell had staged this whole thing? It had been his idea to dress Apple up like Kendall in the first place. Maybe the spilled drink wasn't an accident after all. What if he'd hired her to be at his party solely to be a decoy? He hired someone to kidnap his kid, but he doesn't want to traumatize his own daughter, so he has the hired gun take Apple. He pays the five million to himself to get Apple back, gets the tax write-off, and gets to keep the money.

  "You think Wendell Manchester set this whole thing up?" Sam asked, her thoughts clearly going down the same path.

  I shrugged. "It's certainly possible."

  Maya shook her head. "But why bring us into it?"

  "Chances are he didn't expect anyone to take Apple's disappearance seriously. The police sure didn't when Candy called them," Sam pointed out.

  I nodded. "Right. We show up asking questions, and he sees an opportunity. Maybe Manchester needs a witness to the kidnapping. Someone who can vouch for the reality of it with the IRS. Who knows—maybe he meant to call the authorities, but when Stephanie says a PI has been around, he thinks, 'Even better!'"

  "So now what?" Sam asked. "We searched his place. Apple's not there."

  I strummed my fingers on my desk. "Maya, check to see if Wendell owns any other property. Condos, buildings, office space, etcetera."

  She typed on her tablet, a light tapping sound echoing off the glass. "Got it."

  "You think he's hiding Apple somewhere else?" Sam asked.

  "It's worth looking into." Though I wasn't ready to put all my eggs in this basket yet. "Did you follow Delphine last night?"

  Sam nodded. "She stayed at the office until"—she consulted notes on her phone—"nine, met a couple of agents for dinner in Studio City, then went straight home to a place in Burbank." She looked up. "Pretty boring."

  Agreed. If she'd been behind Apple's abduction, she was definitely relying on someone else to handle the dirty work. "What about Kent Perkins?" I asked Maya. "Any info on him yet?"

  Maya nodded, finished typing, and looked up. "Copy of the restraining order Manchester has against him is on your desk. The incident played out pretty much how you said Manchester described it. Perkins went after him with a golf club at a country club. Manchester called for security, but before they could arrive, Perkins did a good deal of damage to Manchester's Mercedes."

  "Got an address for Perkins?" I asked, thinking of my unanswered voicemail to him. Maybe he'd be more receptive in person.

  She nodded. "I'll text it to you. But, he usually spends mornings at the country club go
lfing."

  Sam barked out a laugh. "They let him back after he attacked someone with a club?"

  Maya shrugged. "He's got deep pockets."

  "Which cover all manner of sins," Sam mumbled.

  "Sam, you mind calling the club and making sure he's there today?" I asked.

  She nodded. "You know I love a Bloody Mary in the morning," she said, stepping out of the office.

  I wished.

  "Anything else?" Maya asked, standing to go as well.

  I paused. "Um, actually I wanted to ask you something."

  She sat back down, giving me an expectant look.

  "Uh, your mom and Elaine are close, right?"

  While I didn't want to spill news of Derek's possible proposal in case it got back to Elaine, the worst scenario I could think of was Derek being publicly rejected while on one knee at the very classy catered affair I was apparently planning for him. The least I could do was feel out what sort of reception his proposal might elicit. I knew Maya's mom, Charley, and Elaine had met through us and had taken a cooking class together recently. I hoped that meant they were close enough to confide in each other about their love lives.

  "Sure." Maya nodded. "I think they had a girls' night just last weekend. Why?"

  "I was just wondering where Elaine's head might be. You know, in regards to my dad."

  Maya frowned. "You think they're fighting again?"

  I shrugged. What I thought was that Derek was nuts and Elaine was on her way to Seattle. But I kept that to myself.

  "Well, I'm meeting Mom for lunch today. Want to make it a foursome with Elaine?"

  "Perfect," I agreed.

  Maya nodded and added one more notation to her to-do list. "I'll set it up and text you the details."

  She rose and went to her desk, and I took a moment to browse her reports on my own. While they were thorough, there wasn't much more usable info than the highlights Maya had hit already. I grabbed my purse, tossed my empty paper cup into the trash, and met Sam in the lobby.

  "Perkins is definitely at the club today," Sam assured me, her purse already slung over one shoulder, ready to hit the ground running. "The caddy I spoke to said they've already had to comp him two drinks to keep him from—"