by Desiree Holt
“And when Lindsey needed boutique software for drawing her plans,” Nick added, “you barely charged us a thing for it.”
“Right.” Reno agreed. “So now it’s our turn. End of discussion.”
Josh started to say something, but then just nodded.
“So.” Ethan cleared his throat. “Why don’t we order and then, Mrs. Mallory, you can tell me how you think I can help you.”
Reno signaled the waiter who was hovering a discreet distance away. The men ordered the lunch steaks, Lisa ordered a salad, which she knew she wouldn’t eat, and Caine added a double Jack Daniel’s on the rocks along with a glass of iced tea. Lisa couldn’t help the way her mouth twisted in distaste.
“Should I disapprove of the wine you’re drinking, Mrs. Mallory?” His scorn for her was evident. “Don’t worry. It would take a lot more than this to put me under the table. Anyway, a little hair of the dog that bit you helps the brain function better.”
“If you say so.”
When the waiter brought their orders, Caine immediately dug into his food.
Lisa frowned. “Shall we wait until you’re finished before we discuss why we’re here?”
“I can eat, talk, and listen at the same time,” Caine told her, already chewing. “So let’s have it. What’s got you in such a bind you’re willing to break bread with someone like me?” He looked at the two Guardian Security partners. “And drag these guys into it all the way from Texas.”
“That was my idea,” Josh told him. “In case you needed help convincing you to do this.”
“Fine.” He looked at Lisa again. “So convince me.”
Lisa had been listening to the back and forth, doing her best to curb her impatience. Now she set her fork down on the table with precise care.
Be nice. You need this man.
“I’m in a desperate situation, Mr. Caine. Nick and Reno give you high marks, and my brother has a lot of faith in what he thinks you can do.”
His piercing stare cut right into her. “Then why don’t you give me the details and we’ll see if everyone’s belief is misplaced or not?”
“Here’s the deal,” Reno began.
Ethan held up his hand. “Are you the one with the problem? No? I didn’t think so. Like I said yesterday, I want to hear it from the lady herself.”
Lisa glared at him.
She wanted to pick up this steak knife and stick it in his throat. Instead, she took a long swallow of her wine, then put the glass down carefully. Remember Jamie. “I’m sure you’re aware of everything that’s happened in the past year. I’m referring to my husband’s death and the subsequent scandal. The media had a field day.”
“I know his little empire crumbled, he was in hock to his eyeballs, and somebody offed him. The cops tried to pin it on you, but they didn’t have any evidence.”
“That’s because I didn’t do it.” Her tone was fierce, anger scraping her throat. “You can believe me on that.”
“Hey.” He waved his fork. “You say you didn’t do it? Okay. Personally, I don’t care one way or the other. I will say you had more than one damn good reason.”
Not the ringing endorsement she’d hoped for, but better than a condemnation. “He left me in an incredible financial mess. I ended up selling everything, including my jewelry.”
Caine drained his glass of iced tea and waved to the waiter for a refill. “Sorry about that.”
She slapped a palm on the table, wishing instead she could slap the arrogant man across from her instead. “I’m not asking for sympathy. The damned jewelry meant nothing to me. I’m just trying to give you some background.”
He shrugged, drank half the glass of tea, and kept on eating. “Whatever.”
Lisa cast an angry glance at Josh, then plunged ahead. “I had to rebuild a life for my son and myself. I was a practicing attorney when I met Charles. Corporate law. After the…well, afterward, I went back to work, but now I handle only family law. I have a small practice with two other people.” She looked away. “Although I haven’t been there much the last three months.”
Caine sopped up the last of his steak sauce with a piece of French bread, then downed the rest of his Jack Daniel’s. He raised an eyebrow at Josh, who motioned to the waiter. “Can we get to the main course here? I’m not much on appetizers.”
Lisa curled her hands into fists to keep from actually striking him. Why didn’t one of these men put Caine in his place? Or maybe this was his place, and she’d better get used to it.
“I need to do this in my own way if you don’t mind.”
Those soulless black eyes looked at her as if they could see into the very heart of her. “Whatever.”
“Go on, Lisa.” Nick gave her an encouraging smile.
“My son is my life, Mr. Caine.” She was determined to keep things formal. “I live and breathe for him.” When Caine opened his mouth, she surged on, “And I think I’ve had enough of your smart remarks.” She took a careful swallow of her wine. “Three months ago Jamie was kidnapped. We paid the ransom, but we never got him back.”
Caine picked up the fresh drink placed in front of him and looked at Lisa over the rim as he sipped from it. “Yeah, I guess all that coverage about the insurance money would be bait for anyone.”
Josh leaned forward. “The ten million went into a trust to be used for Jamie’s health and well-being.”
Caine nodded. “Ransom would definitely fall into that category. So what happened? Did the Feds get into it?”
“Yes,” Josh told him. “They coordinated everything.”
“Even the drop?” The answering sudden silence spoke louder than words. “Okay, give.”
Lisa sat up, her spine rigid, her hands so tightly wrapped around the stem of her wine glass she was afraid she’d shatter it. “The kidnappers told me to make the drop myself. No FBI, no cops, no anyone. Or I wouldn’t get Jamie back.”
“And of course you believed them.”
“He’s my son,” she almost shouted. “I wasn’t about to risk his life.”
“Okay.” Josh looked from his sister to Nick, then Reno and finally Ethan. “Let’s everyone take a deep breath here and go on.”
Caine took another drink of his whiskey, ignoring everyone but Lisa. “So what happened?”
“The FBI wanted to put people in place ahead of time and have a look-alike make the drop.”
He watched her, expressionless, his eyes hooded. “And what did you do, Mrs. Mallory?”
“I’ll tell you,” Josh broke in. “She sneaked out of the house and went to the drop site herself. They shot her, took the money, and we haven’t seen Jamie since.”
“Shot?” Caine raised his eyebrows. “Since when do kidnappers shoot the mark?”
“Exactly.” Josh nodded. “We’ve talked about this, and there’s something out of whack here.”
Caine looked at Lisa. “Okay. Go on.”
“Whoever took Jamie has disappeared off the face of the earth with him. The Feds tried to find him, we hired Guardian, the works, but no one can find a trace anywhere. And you know how easy it is to hide an eight-year-old boy in plain sight. He could be anywhere.”
“That’s why we asked Nick and Reno to get involved,” Josh added, “and help us set up this meeting with you. Especially since you turned me down the first time. Besides, I wanted them to tell you that Guardian has already tried and failed. Only the kind of skills you have are going to work here. We’re all convinced of it.”
Lisa finished her wine and began shredding the tiny cocktail napkin. “We’re… I’m asking you if you’ll help us. Wait. No, not asking. Begging.”
“Help you? Do what?” He drained his glass of iced tea.
Lisa watched him in amazement, a strange thought crossing her mind. She’d never met anyone who could drink such copious amounts of fluid and never have to go to the bathroom. And who mixed Jack Daniel’s and iced tea?
“Next question,” he went on. “Why all of a sudden today? I know what you th
ink of me, Mrs. Mallory, so I’m damn sure you didn’t wake up with my name on your lips this morning. And if you want my help, you might try cutting back on the sarcasm.”
“She’s just on edge,” Josh cut in. “As you can well imagine. We’ve let the Feds have their shot and Guardian put their best men on it. But none of those men is you. That’s it, plain and simple.”
Ethan Caine barked a laugh. “That’s a pretty sad state of affairs.”
“I’m the one who suggested asking you again,” Josh told him. “Today is Jamie’s eighth birthday, and I think we’ve wasted enough time. You’re the only person I know who can reach out to people we’ve never even heard of and ask questions. Nick and Reno agree.”
“I’m asking you.” Lisa looked across the table at him. “Please help me get my son back.” Her throat tightened and her eyes burned. She clenched her fists in her lap. She would not cry. She would be strong for Jamie.
“So.” He put his glass down. “You want me to step back into the muck and slime I’m still trying to wash away for a kid that’s probably already dead?”
Lisa crushed the stem of her wine glass so hard it snapped, slicing into her skin.
“God, Lisa. Here. Give me your hand.” Josh pulled out his handkerchief and wrapped it around her palm.
She stared at Ethan, then at Josh, her eyes burning with unshed tears, her heart racing with pain and anguish. How dare this man say such things?
“I told you all this was a waste of time. Let’s get out of here.” She started to slide out of the booth, the unwanted tears sliding down her cheeks. She had no idea where to turn next, but she’d find someone, somehow.
Ethan reached over and grabbed her arm. “Don’t you even want to hear my answer?”
“I think you’ve already given it,” she snapped. “Josh, let’s go.”
“I want to hear what Ethan has to say.”
“Then say it and be done.” She cradled her injured hand in her other palm.
Ethan finished the last of his drink. “You and I are far from friends, Mrs. Mallory, but I know Josh. I trust him, and I owe him a lot. I was too wrapped up in my own pain the first time he asked me and never realized how strange the situation was. I’m sorry for that, although at that time, I’m sure I would have said no regardless.”
Lisa looked at Josh, her eyebrows raised.
He shrugged but said nothing.
“So here’s the deal,” Caine continued. “This afternoon Josh is gonna come out to my house—a place, by the way, I’m sure you’d never set foot in—and we’re gonna talk about this. I’ll give him my answer. Reno, if Guardian will be providing all the backup on this, even though this is not exactly official, you or Nick should come with him.”
“I’ll be the one,” Nick told him. “Everything at the agency will go through me.”
“Fine.” Ethan reached under his T-shirt to the waistband of his sweat pants, drew out a wad of cash as thick as his wrist, and dropped a handful of bills on the table. “Lunch is on me. See you in a little while, guys.”
Lisa stared after him, the pain in her hand nearly forgotten in her shock at the abrupt termination of the conversation.
“That man is a pig,” she told her brother.
Before Josh could answer, Nick Vanetta leaned forward. “Lisa. Ethan Caine is what he is. He’s also the only man who can help you. If this was my problem? He’s the one person I’d want on it.”
Reno nodded his agreement.
Lisa dropped the bloody napkin on the table, satisfied her hand had stopped bleeding. “If in fact he decides to grace us with his assistance.”
“He didn’t say no,” Josh reminded her. “With Ethan that means we’re halfway there.”
Chapter Three
Caine parked his car in a garage that was in almost the same neglected condition as the rest of the property and trudged into the house. Tossing his keys on the kitchen table, he opened the refrigerator, pulled out a Coors, and drank half of it in two long swallows.
Fuck.
Lunch had been painful for a number of reasons. The most important was the resurgence in his mind of the images that constantly plagued him, the nightmares that made him drink to be able to sleep. And the weight of the guilt he carried despite the fact none of what happened had been his fault. Or so people told him.
But he knew better. His mantra was trust no one, and he’d been foolish enough to believe the people who held the future of the mission in their hands were honest, dedicated, patriotic people. What a load of shit that turned out to be. He’d gladly open the doors and let them out of prison if it brought back to life the good people and the innocent people who had died because of their greed and treachery.
He should have told Reno to bag it this morning and gone back to sleep, even if the man had flown all the way out from San Antonio. One look at Lisa Taylor Mallory and he knew he was about to do something that he’d hate himself for. The lady pissed him off with her mine-doesn’t-stink attitude, but a long time had passed since he’d seen agony like that in someone’s eyes.
How about yours, asshole?
Altogether, she looked like hell. The shadows under her eyes were a good indication of how little sleep she’d been getting. Her body looked like she’d been starved to death yet she ate almost nothing of her lunch. She twisted her fingers together constantly, a gesture of someone whose nerves were raw to the point of bleeding.
Damn Joshua anyway. And Reno and Nick. Ethan’s one weak spot—his only weak spot—was his friends. He had very few, deliberately, but the ones he had he prized. He would do anything for them, and those three knew that. Reno and Nick had given him a home at Guardian when he desperately needed a direction for his weird collection of skills. Of course, he’d delivered on all his assignments, because that’s who he was. Josh had been there for him when it all went to hell and he just wanted to crawl into a black hole.
Still…
Carrying the half-empty bottle of beer with him into his bedroom, he toed off his Adidas, pulled the wad of money from his waistband, and threw it on the dresser, then went to a battered roll-top desk in the corner of the room. Besides his car, there were two pieces of machinery Ethan kept in perfect shape—his high definition plasma television and his computer.
His computer was his contact with the world at large—how he communicated and how he read extensively about whatever spiked his curiosity on a given day. On nights when he couldn’t sleep, it amused him to surf the web and see if he could find traces of people in his old line of work. The fact that he couldn’t was reassuring. It meant that no one could find him, either.
Today he was using it to fill in the blanks.
Hitching his chair closer to the desk, he closed his eyes for a moment and, with an effort of will, banished the terrible images that haunted him. Being able to shut everything out and focus had always been one of his greatest skills. Today, he pulled it front and center. He took a long pull on the beer, set the bottle down, and typed ‘Lisa Taylor Mallory’ into the Google search box. He was only somewhat startled to discover there were more than a thousand sites that were in some way related to her. She had, after all, had more than her fifteen minutes of fame. Methodically, he began to scroll through them one at a time. At the end of an hour, he sat back, trying to wash away the distaste that had formed in his mouth with the last of the now lukewarm beer.
He had a pretty clear picture of Charles Mallory, and it turned his stomach. And of Lisa, a stunningly brilliant young attorney, unaware of the animal living behind Mallory’s façade until it was too late.
He knew from Josh what his sister’s life was like after her marriage. She’d been a virtual prisoner at the huge estate where they lived, guarded by men only a step above thugs, while the golden boy stayed away from home more and more. His absences became extended, his behavior at home increasingly erratic, and the velvet noose pulled even tighter.
No, she couldn’t return to work. She was a wife and mother. No, she didn’t need
her own car. Carlos would drive her wherever she wanted to go. No, she didn’t need outside activities. He provided everything she needed at the estate.
Mallory’s obsession with her, his psychotic jealousy, his growing unpredictable behavior had worried Josh a lot, but he’d been powerless to do anything about it.
And when Charles Mallory’s car went over an embankment, instead of finally being set free, Lisa was plunged into a greater nightmare. His death had opened a can of worms that turned into snakes.
The media covered almost every second of the widow’s life from the minute her husband’s car rolled down a mountainside. They hadn’t even left her in peace as she struggled to get past the nightmare and create some kind of life for herself and Jamie.
Eventually, though, with no more tidbits to fan the flame, the media gave up and the stories ended. Lisa disappeared from the newspapers altogether.
Until the kidnapping.
He was well aware that every form of media—television, Internet, newspapers—had run the story, the reporters almost gleefully reporting on the further misfortunes of the tarnished widow. He’d hardly been able to avoid hearing or reading about it. It sickened Ethan that they would treat the kidnapping of a child this way. Jamie Mallory’s face looked out at him from the computer screen, a typical eight-year-old, with curly hair and huge eyes.
He stopped reading there, preferring to hear any other details from Josh.
He was in the kitchen opening his second beer when he heard tires crunching on the gravel in front of the house, then footsteps on the porch.
“Ethan? It’s Josh and Nick.”
“Come on in. It’s open.”
The two men scanned the disheveled appearance of the room.
Josh shook his head. “I see the maid didn’t make it in again.”
“Since when did my living conditions become a matter of interest to you?” Ethan opened the door to the fridge again. “Beer?”
“None for me,” Nick told him.
Josh shook his head. “Jesus, Ethan, I don’t know how you aren’t permanently pickled.”
“If you two are through commenting on my lifestyle, let’s go sit on the porch. We can talk there without my interior decorating bothering you.”