The Agent

by Herkness, Nancy

  “Vandals? Out here?” Sarah looked around at the widely spaced houses on the quiet lane.

  “Probably just kids who’d been drinking,” Natalie said with a wry grimace.

  “Oh.” Sarah swallowed noticeably.

  “You’re going to be okay.” Natalie reached over the seat to brush the back of Sarah’s hand where it held the leather tote. The woman flinched, so Natalie drew back her hand. It looked like Sarah’s husband had been physically abusive, given how jumpy she was. Anger coursed through Natalie’s veins. “I promise he won’t hurt you ever again.”

  Sarah looked more frightened, not less. “Oh, God, I hope you’re right.”

  Jenya knocked on Natalie’s window and Sarah jumped.

  “We can get out now,” Natalie said as she unlocked her door.

  Once they were inside the front door, Jenya did her interior sweep while Natalie waited with Sarah. All was normal in the house, so they headed for the big open living area.

  Natalie took out the ingredients for a Manhattan and offered her guests one. Jenya refused since she was on duty but Sarah accepted. Natalie set out cheese and crackers on the coffee table before she mixed the drinks. When she brought Sarah hers, the woman took a large gulp and choked on the strong alcohol. Natalie sipped hers, closing her eyes as the liquor burned smoothly down her throat and sent a warm ripple of relaxation through her.

  Then she remembered Tully making her a Manhattan at his house. All the warmth drained away to leave a ball of ice in her chest.

  “I’d like to cook dinner for you tonight,” Sarah said abruptly. “I’m a really good cook and it’s something I can do to thank you.”

  “Sweetie, you don’t have to thank me.” Natalie was touched. “I’m helping you because I want to.”

  “I was a chef before I got married. If you let me just look at what you have in your fridge and pantry, I’ll figure out something to make,” Sarah insisted.

  She might have to be a chef again, depending on her divorce settlement.

  Jenya scarfed down a cheese-laden cracker as she passed by while doing another sweep through the house. “Sounds like a great offer to me. I haven’t had a home-cooked meal in two weeks.”

  “Where did you work before, Sarah?” Natalie asked. Maybe if the woman talked about a time before her marriage, she would forget her terror.

  “Do you remember Myrtle and Pepper’s in Summit? I was the pastry chef,” Sarah said, her voice steadier.

  “Dessert!” Jenya called from the front hallway. “Now we’re talking!”

  The bodyguard didn’t have an ounce of spare flesh on her, so Natalie was surprised she liked sweets. “I probably have the ingredients for a cake,” Natalie said.

  “Great!” Sarah put down her drink and jumped up. “Why don’t I get started so it will be ready for after dinner?”

  She seemed relieved to have something constructive to do, so Natalie gave her a tour of the kitchen. She understood the need to think about anything other than the pain of a failed marriage.

  While Sarah bustled around in the kitchen, looking less tense, Natalie and Jenya finished off the cheese and crackers. Just as Natalie took the last sip of her Manhattan, her cell phone vibrated with a text.

  It was from Tully.

  Just checking in. Everything okay there?

  Had Jenya told him about Sarah? She must have. He was her boss. But Natalie tried to formulate a way to convey information without saying it outright.

  She typed: No new developments. All quiet. Thank you for the check-in.

  I’d like to come out tomorrow to see the lay of the land, if that’s all right with you.

  Every fiber of her body sparked at the thought of seeing him tomorrow. Which meant that it was a bad idea. However, more was at stake here than her emotional issues.

  Sure. What time?

  Does noon work?

  Sounds good. She took a deep breath and added: Will you join us for lunch?

  There was a noticeable pause before his answer came back. What had he been thinking during those seconds?

  Thanks but I need to get back.

  Tomorrow was Sunday but it was possible that he needed to catch up on work. He’d admitted that he had projects he’d neglected to work on her problem. Or he didn’t want to spend more time than necessary with her. She couldn’t blame him.

  She put her phone down on her thigh and closed her eyes as the jumbled emotions whirling inside her triggered the urge to cry. After taking a deep breath, she got control of herself and opened her eyes again.

  “Are you all right?” Jenya was watching her with concern.

  “I’ve been fighting a headache all day,” Natalie said truthfully. She gestured to her phone and spoke in a low voice. “Tully’s coming by at noon tomorrow.”

  Jenya nodded and answered equally softly. “He wants to check out your guest. He tried to make it today, but he was tied up with a client.”

  The tears threatened again, but Natalie swallowed hard and fixed herself another Manhattan.

  Sarah was, in fact, a very good cook. She whipped up a delicious chicken dish with the random ingredients Natalie had on hand. But the cake was the masterpiece: a confection of moist, dense chocolate and rich ganache with a touch of coffee flavor. Sarah insisted that even Jenya have a small glass of port with the cake; she claimed that was the perfect complement to her dessert.

  When they had practically licked their plates clean, Natalie and Jenya both leaned back in their chairs with satisfied sighs. Sarah beamed, her culinary success wiping the haunted look from her face.

  “You really need to open a bakery,” Jenya said. “You’d make a killing.”

  Natalie was feeling drowsy from the combination of food, alcohol, and drama. “Maybe you could provide pastries for my salon’s coffee bar. My customers would love them.” She had to stifle a yawn.

  For a moment Sarah’s thin face lit up and then it looked as though someone had turned the light out. She dropped her gaze to her plate, where she’d left half her slice of cake uneaten. “Maybe once I’m through my divorce.”

  Natalie glanced at her watch. It was only nine o’clock but her body was telling her it was midnight. That’s what major emotional upheaval did to you. However, she needed to stay awake in case Sarah was ready to talk.

  Jenya stretched and yawned before she stood up. “You two ladies sit and relax. I’ll do a quick security circuit and then take care of the dishes.”

  When Natalie started to object to the latter, Jenya pinned her with her gaze and gave a tiny shake of her head. So she thought Sarah might talk more freely if Jenya wasn’t nearby.

  With an effort, Natalie sat up. “Sarah, tell me how I can help you. Do you want to talk about why you left?”

  Sarah continued to stare down at her plate. “I’m not ready,” she said in a barely audible voice. “Can I just go to my room and sleep tonight? I’m so tired. I’ll be able to face it all tomorrow.”

  “Of course.” Making the decision to seek Natalie’s help had clearly exhausted all the young woman’s inner resources. “I’ll show you to your room.”

  Sarah nearly bolted up from her chair and grabbed her tote bag from the sectional.

  Natalie stood with a slight wobble. The Manhattans must have hit her harder than usual. She started toward the stairs but had to brace herself against a wall as her head spun. “I’m sorry. I’m a little dizzy,” she said.

  “Why don’t you just tell me where my room is,” Sarah said. “I can find it myself.”

  “No, I’ll be fine in a second.” She waited until a wave of nausea had subsided before she straightened. “Okay, let’s go.”

  She got to the foot of the staircase and looked up. The stairs looked so steep and her legs felt so shaky. She turned and sat down on the bottom step. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

  “I’ll get you a glass of water,” Sarah offered.

  “Thank you.” Another wave of nausea hit and Natalie had to inhale hard to
prevent herself from throwing up. Too much rich food.

  There was a loud crash of something hitting the tile floor in the kitchen, and she heard Jenya’s voice as though through a fog. Several curse words. Something about Sarah being an evil bitch.

  Then Natalie slid down off the step and curled up on the rug in her foyer, her eyelids so heavy she couldn’t stop them from closing.

  Chapter 18

  Tully tossed the new Julian Best novel onto the coffee table and picked up the television remote. Usually he ripped right through the super spy’s adventures but in this one, Julian found his soul mate, and reading about their love affair rubbed salt in Tully’s new wounds.

  It wasn’t football season but Tully had found a video of Luke Archer and the New York Empire’s last Super Bowl victory. As far as Tully was concerned, Archer was the greatest quarterback in football history and that was one nail-biter of a game. He had to admire a guy who retired when he was still on top.

  Guilt nagged at Tully as he watched Archer coolly nail a precision thirty-yard pass. He should have gone to check on Natalie’s new houseguest in person instead of relying on Jenya and Deion’s reports. But the thought of seeing Natalie without being able to touch her had slashed at his chest like a bowie knife. So he’d stayed at the office late, working on a security plan for a Silicon Valley CEO’s new mansion in the Hamptons.

  He hit fast-forward to take him to the fourth quarter of the game, when the Empire were down by thirteen points and staged a stunning comeback, starting when Archer ran the ball himself. Just as the quarterback figured out he had no other options, Tully’s phone vibrated.

  He took a swig of beer before he checked the caller ID and frowned. It was Alastair York. What the hell would he be calling about so late on a Saturday night?

  “Gibson. What’s up?” he said.

  “I’ve received a phone call from Dobs Van Houten.” Alastair’s accented voice was tight with tension. “He says he needs to speak with his wife immediately. It’s of the utmost importance.”

  “It’s midnight on Saturday. How the hell did he get through to you?” Tully was already sorting through possible reasons why Van Houten wanted to communicate with Regina at such an odd hour. None of them were good.

  “The firm has a twenty-four-hour answering service. They judged the call urgent enough to route through to me.”

  “What did you tell him?”

  “That he wasn’t legally allowed to communicate with her as per the restraining order.” Alastair paused a moment. “He became insistent, saying that she would be extremely upset if she found out I had blocked his call. He also threatened to file various legal charges against me.” Alastair’s tone became sardonic. “He must have some legal counsel of his own to have come up with a couple of the more obscure ones.”

  “So he wouldn’t give you a reason?” Van Houten had to have known Alastair wouldn’t just hand the phone to Regina.

  “He told me that it was between Regina and him. He suggested that I tell Regina to contact him so she could make up her own mind about how important it was. I don’t think he’s accustomed to meeting with resistance when he wants something.”

  “You got that right. The restraining order forbids him from communicating with his wife in any way, correct?” That would be one charge they could lodge against Van Houten, but it wasn’t enough by itself to win a custody battle, particularly if Regina herself chose to call him.

  “That is correct. This can be construed as an attempt to communicate with her since he is threatening me. I have it recorded, by the way.”

  “Good man.” Tully wasn’t surprised. Alastair knew his legal stuff. “How did you leave it?”

  “That I would consider his proposal and get back to him.” There was a note of black humor in Alastair’s voice as he said, “The response was, er, explosive, so I hung up. And called you.”

  Tully understood Alastair’s desire to cut the call short but an enraged Van Houten was a dangerous animal.

  Which meant Tully needed to warn Jenya to be extra-vigilant. In fact, he would send another trained guard over to Natalie’s house, just to be safe.

  “Call him back and stall him for a while. Push to get a reason for the contact. I need to check in with a couple of people before we proceed. And thanks for calling me right away.”

  “You know more about this situation than I do,” Alastair said.

  And it gave Tully something to think about other than how he’d scared Natalie away.

  He hit speed dial for Jenya’s cell, knowing his call would trigger a specific ringtone that she would answer no matter what the time.

  Except his call went to her voice mail. He texted her a terse message to call him ASAP and he waited exactly sixty seconds. No response, so he redialed. Voice mail again.

  “Shit!” He dialed Natalie’s number. “Pick up, Nat, pick up!”

  Voice mail.

  He bolted for his home office, where he could track the location of the phones. His fingers flew over the keyboard as he launched the program and keyed in the numbers. The software quickly traced both devices to Natalie’s address.

  “So why aren’t they answering?” He started to pull up his staff members’ home addresses when he remembered Deion. He found the young man’s number on his cell phone.

  “Thank God!” he said when Deion answered, sounding sleepy but coherent. “How fast can you get to Natalie’s house? Jenya isn’t answering her cell phone.”

  “I’m dressing now.” Deion’s voice was wide-awake. “On my way in three minutes.”

  “Wait! You approach with extreme caution. No heroics. Just scope out the situation and report back to me. Got it?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Tully felt the surge of adrenaline that came with doing his job. For once, he didn’t welcome it, because he was positive that Natalie was somehow involved with Van Houten’s midnight phone call. Which meant that Regina was going to have to talk to her husband.

  He texted Alastair: Call me ASAP.

  Leaving his cell phone free, he used his computer to call Leland, his lips curling into a grim smile at the thought of waking up his partner yet again.

  “This is getting to be a bad habit of yours,” Leland said, his voice thick with sleep.

  “I knew you’d whine.” He explained the situation. “I hate to do this to Regina, but we need to know what Van Houten wants.”

  “Agreed. I’ll get Dawn to wake her. I’ll load the listening software on Regina’s phone and you can tie in from there.”

  “And bounce her cell signal around so Van Houten can’t trace it back to your place. I don’t want you and Dawn in the crosshairs.”

  “I appreciate that,” Leland said.

  Tully’s cell vibrated with Alastair’s name in the ID. “Gotta go.” He swiped in the call. “Any more information?”

  “No, just a great deal of verbal abuse,” Alastair said. “I’m not sure why he thinks that will change my mind.”

  “He’s not rational. I’m concerned that Natalie has gotten caught up in this, because neither my bodyguard nor Natalie is answering her phone. So I’m afraid Regina will have to speak with Van Houten.”

  “Bloody hell!” Alastair exclaimed. “I hate to subject her to that.”

  “I do too, but we need to know what he’s up to. We’ll tap her phone but Van Houten doesn’t know that.”

  “If I can be of any assistance, call me, no matter what the hour,” Alastair said.

  Tully heard the anxiety lurking beneath the British reserve. “I’ll update you as soon as I can.”

  He set up the phone-tap software on his computer in anticipation of linking to Regina’s phone. Then he took his cell phone to his bedroom to strip out of his office casual clothes before he pulled on black combat pants, a black long-sleeved shirt, and low tactical boots. After donning a bulletproof vest, he opened the gun safe in the back of the closet and took out his favorite big Glock and a shoulder holster that fit over the vest. For good me
asure he strapped a sheathed tactical knife to his left forearm. He collected ammunition for the gun, as well as his lock-pick set, and secured the safe.

  As he loaded and holstered the Glock, he kept glancing at the cell phone sitting on his dresser, willing it to ring with news from Deion that Natalie and Jenya were safely asleep in Natalie’s house. The longer it took for Deion to call, the less likely that scenario became.

  Tully grabbed a black knit cap and headed back to the computer room, tensing when his cell finally rang with Deion’s ID.

  “Natalie and Sarah Lacey are gone. Jenya’s unconscious,” Deion reported tersely.

  “Unconscious how? A blow to the head or drugs?” Fury seared through his veins.

  “I don’t see any lumps or bruising and there’s no evidence of a fight, so I think it must be drugs.”

  “Sarah Lacey had to be part of this,” Tully muttered, guilt ripping at him with steel claws. He should have checked up on the woman instead of feeling sorry for himself like a teenager who’d been dumped by his girlfriend. “Get Jenya to the nearest hospital. Keep me posted on her condition.”

  “Yes, sir. Once I do that, I want to help you find Natalie.”

  Tully liked the determination in the young man’s voice. “It’s a good thought but you’re still not trained. Stay with Jenya.”

  “But I shouldn’t have let Natalie take Sarah Lacey home with her. I knew that.” Deion’s voice was racked with guilt.

  It was nothing compared with the claws of regret tearing at Tully’s chest. “No, Deion, that’s on me. You did everything you could. Now let me get Natalie back.”

  “Right. Get that motherfucker.” Deion did not apologize for his language this time.

  Tully went to his office to find Regina’s phone linked to the computer program. He called Leland. “Let me talk with Regina.”

  “What’s happening?” Regina sounded distraught when she came on the phone. “Why is Dobs trying to reach me now?”

  “That’s what you’re going to find out for us,” Tully said, injecting calm and reassurance into his voice. “I want you to imagine that you’re sitting in a hotel room. No one is with you. Your divorce lawyer has just called to say the husband you hate and fear urgently needs to talk with you. Are you with me?”