She pulled up the sleeve of her jacket, but it immediately fell back down. “I often drove Kristen and her friends around town when I arrived in the spring. Irene got her license a couple of months ago, so she’s taken over a lot of that now.”
Maybe that’s what an assistant PA signed up for? Chauffeur duty. Sounded boring as hell to Max.
“What is Catherine and Phillip’s marriage like?”
She frowned at him from behind the wide, black frames. “You think that is relevant?”
“Everything’s relevant.” Max’s gaze was drawn to where her teeth sank into her lower lip. He looked away.
“They seem devoted to one another.”
“Seem?” He swung back to face her.
Her shoulders bobbed, and she shoved the sleeves of her jacket back up her arms again. “They are devoted to one another. Well, they fight a little when they think no one else is watching, but no more than other couples. Phillip likes to flirt—”
“Does he flirt with you?” Was Phillip Dickerson the reason Lucy dressed like Max’s grandmother on an Easter Sunday?
“No. He doesn’t flirt with me.” Her chin angled up, and her thick hair fell away from her face as she took offense. Up close, Max got a better look at the features she liked to hide.
Clear eyes that were more hazel than brown. Smooth, unblemished skin with the barest hint of a tan. Her nose was slightly upturned. Her mouth wide and lush.
The roots of her hair were pale gold, which was a surprise. Her hair was dyed a darker brown to match her brows.
Intriguing.
“Who does he flirt with?” Max asked.
Lucy let out a long-suffering sigh, obviously reluctant to say more. “People at social events.”
“People at social events?” he mirrored.
“Generally, the wives of other diplomats.”
Made sense. “How does the ambassador feel about that?”
She shot him a distrustful look. “Despite what you saw today they both generally use charm to get what they want. I’ve seen her roll her eyes at him sometimes and get a little snippy if he’s had too much to drink.”
“Too much to drink?”
“He likes a few drinks, but he’s not a drunk.” She peered at Max with one eye narrowed. “You don’t think he kidnapped his own daughter, do you?”
“I doubt it, but we have no idea of motive yet, and it has been known.” Max glanced over the makeup and jewelry strewn across the girl’s vanity and then used the opportunity to watch Lucy in the mirror. “Anyone he likes to flirt with in particular?”
“No.” Lucy took a step away from him. “I can’t talk about them like this.”
As much as he admired loyalty, he needed to know every relevant thing about the family that he could uncover. “You work for the federal government, Lucy, not the Dickersons.”
“I am well aware of who I work for.” Her voice snapped, and her eyes sparked. Her stance shifted to a much more confident one than she’d exhibited earlier.
He held her gaze. “Lucy, I’m not looking for gossip. I’m trying to get Kristen home in one piece. To do that, I need a crash course in the family dynamics, and that includes any dirty secrets that might otherwise bite me on the ass halfway through the case. Like when some unknown-to-me lover decides to get involved and starts negotiating on the ambassador’s behalf with less than pure motives, or some political rival in the government here instigates an armed raid because he doesn’t give a shit about the ambassador or her kid, only for the opportunity to look like a hero.” And the FBI would be a convenient scapegoat if things went south.
A noise in the doorway had him turning.
A lanky youth stood there with a rough collie at his feet. The kid looked upset.
How much had he overheard?
“This is Kevin, Kristen’s brother.” Lucy introduced him.
Max nodded. “Hi, Kevin. I’m Max. I work for the FBI.”
“Are you going to get my sister back?” The voice was deep and the attitude hovering somewhere between hostile and admiration.
“I’m going to do my best.”
“Are you any good?” Kevin asked defiantly.
Max drew in a long breath. “Yeah. I’m pretty good.”
Kevin’s eyes shot to Lucy as if for confirmation. She nodded. “The FBI Crisis Negotiation Unit has some of the best people in the world working for them. They deal with kidnappings all the time.”
The weight of responsibility on Max’s shoulders started to grow. Kristen was becoming more real to him. More human. With people who cared about her.
“Any chance you know the passwords or codes for her phone and computer?” he asked the kid.
Kevin scratched his arm. “She’ll be mad if I tell you.”
“It could be important, Kevin,” Lucy encouraged. “Very important.”
In a criminal case, law enforcement would have to obtain a warrant from a judge, then the computer would be bagged as evidence and sent to the lab for forensic digital analysis. They didn’t need a warrant here, the family was fully cooperative, and Kristen was a minor. He’d clone the machine and send the laptop to the FBI’s lab for thorough DNA, trace, and forensic analysis. See exactly who’d been on her machine, and inside it.
“The FBI can crack the codes, but the time it takes might be crucial in finding your sister.” Max didn’t say that it might be vital to her survival. The kid didn’t need to know just how dicey a situation Kristen found herself in right now. Or the fact that, when she came home, she was unlikely to be the same girl who’d left the embassy yesterday.
“I’ll tell Lucy. No one else,” Kevin insisted.
Max looked at Lucy. The kid trusted her and yet the ambassador barely registered her existence except to make the coffee.
Lucy smiled at the kid, and her face transformed. It gave Max a bit of a jolt.
The kid walked over to the laptop and tapped some keys and showed Lucy how to get inside. Then he wrote down the cell phone code on a green sticky note.
The screen lit up, but there were no programs open.
“I really appreciate the help, Kevin.” Max needed to establish his own relationship with the kid. Wanted Kevin to feel able to talk to him if he thought of anything relevant.
“You’ll get her back, right?” Kevin stared hard at Max, a boy on the precipice of manhood.
“My colleagues and I will do everything in our power to bring your sister and her friend home safely.” Max rarely made promises he couldn’t keep. “If you can think of anything that might help then let us know, okay?” He gave the kid his card with his personal number written on the back. He wanted Kevin to be able to contact him any time.
Kevin pressed his lips together and frowned.
“What is it?” Max sensed there was something else on the kid’s mind.
“It probably has nothing to do with her being taken.” His eyes flickered nervously. “I know she was messaging with some guy she met online.” Kevin looked worried, as if he was in trouble. “Mom and Dad don’t know. They’ll kill me if they find out I knew and didn’t tell them. Kristen will kill me if they find out because of me.”
Max nodded. “I can’t make any promises, but I’ll do my best to keep your sister’s private life private. And you didn’t have to tell us this, but I’m glad you did. We’ll find the information on her cell and obtain all the records from the phone company too. She doesn’t need to know it was you who told us, but it is useful to know what to look for.”
Kevin nodded, his head slumped forward. “I want my sister back.”
Max offered him a fist bump which the kid reluctantly responded to. “If there’s anything else you think might help us, tell me or Lucy, okay? And don’t give up hope. The Bureau has all its top people working on this.”
Kevin left, his dog on his heels. Max went over to the desk with the laptop.
“Do you want to look at this now or later?” Lucy schooled her features into a blank mask of disinterest again.
Sh
e was a puzzle he wished he had time for.
“The laptop?” She pushed when he didn’t immediately answer. “Do you want to look at this now or later?”
Max gave her a small smile. He knew what she meant. He was torn. He wanted to go through Kristen’s technology, but he also wanted to see the street where she was abducted, and the area where the van was dumped, before it got dark. Teams back in Quantico and at headquarters were already going through the texts from the phone company. The Dickersons had provided a list of social media accounts their daughter used and all known passwords.
“Later, I think.” Max pulled out a large evidence bag used specifically for this purpose and slid the computer inside. He’d create a backup to work on so he didn’t destroy evidence.
He sent a message to Eban Winters at CNU and asked him to follow up with the tip about Kristen messaging some unknown guy online.
Max quickly went through the girl’s bedside table and came away with two journals.
“Before we head to the abduction zone, I’m going to drop these with my stuff in the Legat’s office and change back into street clothes that make me look less like I’m a government drone.” His eyes swept her up and down. “I want to look around town without anyone pegging me as law enforcement. Do you have anything suitable to change into?”
Lucy picked at the limp cotton of her brown blouse. “I have another suit in my car.”
“Like that one?”
She nodded.
Max pulled a face. “No jeans, t-shirt? Shorts or sundress? Anything that looks casual. We can go to your apartment first.”
Lucy’s nostrils flared. Obviously, that was not in her plans. However, there was no way an observer wouldn’t peg her for a bureaucrat the instant they looked at her.
She studied him intensely with a narrowed gaze when she realized he wasn’t backing down from the request. “Would workout gear be suitable?”
“That’ll do. Meet me at the Legat’s office in ten minutes.”
Chapter Six
“The white van was stolen from a small town southwest of the city yesterday around noon. I spoke to my contact in the Argentine Federal Police, and he says they are currently backtracking the van’s progress through the city to see if they can figure out where the kidnappers kept it before the abduction. The thieves put false plates on it so, again, not so easy. But perhaps it’ll lead us to a garage or to their homes if they’re really dumb.” The Legat Brian Powell’s voice was muffled as Max unbuttoned his clothes behind the screen. “It’s slow and painstaking work, and they are short-staffed due to the holidays.”
Max shrugged off his shirt and folded it carefully into his go bag. Eban had packed him another suitcase full of business clothes and would send it with another negotiator who was heading to Argentina soon. Looked like Max was going to be here for a while.
“Worth the effort if we catch a break.” Max pulled a clean t-shirt over the board shorts he’d worn earlier and repacked his go bag. He pulled on socks and laced up his sneakers because running in flip-flops never worked out well.
Kristen’s laptop was being cloned by DSS and Iain Bartlett had arranged to have the original couriered to Quantico.
“Do you know if there have been any other kidnappings with similar MOs in the city?” Max asked as he came out from behind the screen. “Perhaps of non-Americans so not immediately on our radar?”
Powell sucked in his upper lip. “Now you mention it, there was an incident with a Canadian last year. Low-level guy who worked in their embassy. They paid the ransom—although they denied it publicly, of course. He was released and, from what I understand, got on the first flight back to Ottawa. Probably hasn’t left the frozen tundra since.” Powell laughed.
Max didn’t laugh. He knew how badly a kidnapping could mess someone up. How terrifying it was to be at another person’s mercy. That lack of autonomy. Lack of control. The fear and frustration. Max had only experienced it during training exercises where he’d known he was actually free to walk away any time he wanted. It had still been one of the most harrowing experiences of his life. One he didn’t ever want to repeat.
He needed to check out the Canadian case.
“And there was a series of kidnappings for ransom two years ago that were the work of a street gang with connections to Brazil.” Powell ran his finger around his collar. “They killed the first two hostages whose families contacted the local police after the kidnappers instructed them not to. After that, families were too scared to call the cops. Unofficial reports suggest at least a dozen other people paid up, and those hostages were released unharmed.”
“Were they caught, or did they stop?”
“Died in an armed shoot-out. The last victim’s family had contacts who were friends with a local police officer. They contacted him privately, and he put together a high-level operation to take them down. The antiterrorist unit was sent in after the ransom was paid and the last hostage released. There were no survivors.”
Max pressed his lips together. Although that outcome had at least not involved an innocent victim getting caught up in the crossfire, it underlined the fact he couldn’t control the Argentine police. He had no jurisdiction here. If they located the kidnappers, it was possible they’d use the same tactics. Kristen and Irene might not survive the rescue attempt.
“Could you get me the name of the police officer involved?” Max asked Powell. “I’d like to talk to him to rule out any similarities between kidnappings.”
“Hector Cabral. He was promoted to Oficial Inspector after that operation. He’s one of Comisario General Fuentes’ most-trusted sidekicks now.” Powell tapped out a text to someone on his phone. He’d ripped his tie off since leaving the ambassador. His collar was askew. “My office manager will find his contact number for you.” Powell eyed him from under his brows. “No guarantee any of the cops speak English though. What’s your Spanish like?”
“Not good,” Max acknowledged with a wry grin. He needed to find a translator he could rely on while he was here. His cell dinged with an incoming text. The administrator who ran the CNU office had booked his hotel room in the Hyatt downtown. His eyes widened when he looked at the image. It appeared extremely fancy. He’d requested something secure and central, close to the embassy—but not too close. She followed the link with a smiley face and a “Merry Christmas.”
She knew his vacation plans had been ruined. Max had taken off last Christmas to visit his family back in the UK so it was technically his turn to work through if the need arose. Thanks to these kidnappers, the need had arisen.
A knock sounded on the Legat’s door.
“Come in,” Powell shouted impatiently.
Max hadn’t quite got a handle on the Legat’s personality yet. He placed his shoes into his duffle, zipped it, and then straightened.
The first thing Max noticed was Powell’s bug-eyed expression.
The door swung wider, revealing Lucy Aston in skintight workout gear. Despite the top layer of a slouchy, off-the-shoulder t-shirt, the outfit did nothing to disguise the hot bod she’d been covering up.
Her hair was pulled back from her face in a low, no-nonsense pony, and she’d removed her glasses. Max had been right about the woman hiding her assets beneath an ugly brown suit.
Powell was more vocal about the transformation. He whistled. “Lucy, you should wear yoga pants more often.”
Max frowned.
Lucy glared at the man. “That’s Ms. Aston to you, Legat Powell, and what I wear is none of your business.”
Damn straight. A smile tugged one side of Max’s mouth. She wasn’t as timid as she first appeared.
The man reared away, clearly taken aback by the animosity in her voice and annoyed by the fact he had zero authority to call her on her tone. Score one for Lucy Aston.
Considering how casually the guy had insulted her earlier, he deserved the slap down. But why was she so subservient in front of her boss?
Because she wanted to keep her job an
d diplomacy was the name of the game? Something about her tweaked his suspicions, and he intended to follow up on her background check.
“Ready?” She turned her attention to Max, clearly not happy with being forced out of her camouflage. He hadn’t meant to make her feel uncomfortable. He simply wanted to blend in like a local or a tourist.
“Yes, ma’am. I need to pick up my case from security before we leave. I believe my hotel is close to the scene of the abduction so I can drop it off on the way. Assuming you don’t mind?”
Lucy gave him a curt nod.
Max raised his hand to Powell before following the woman out of the room. Her back was ramrod straight. Spine as rigid as a soldier on parade. Jaw clenched. Chin set to challenge mode.
They went past the closed doors and into the main office. People watched them as they left.
“I take it these guys don’t usually see you in casual gear?” Max was searching for a way to break the tension.
“They don’t see me at all.” She shot him a glance and strode away. Clearly not liking being without her armor.
“You don’t work out here at the embassy?”
“No. There is a small gym in the basement here, but I use a place near my apartment. I go on my way home from work most nights. I prefer it.”
Was that due to the equipment or the people?
“I take it you’re not a fan of the Legat?” Max might be completely off-base with his observations but even mislabeling her emotions was a viable way of eliciting information. Label something incorrectly—or not—and wait for the response was a tactic they regularly used in negotiations.
“He ignores me most of the time.” Lucy grunted. “And I don’t mind him ignoring me, but I resent him only deeming me worthy of notice when he realizes I have tits and an ass.” Her gaze nailed his, and he dared not look anywhere except for her eyes.
“It’s a problem a lot of guys have.” He decided to use truthful humility to attempt to bridge the icy gap she’d constructed between them. She blamed him for having to reveal herself. He was simply trying to do his job.
Now Lucy Aston was closed off and pissed, and he felt a little guilty for causing friction in her life when she was obviously walked all over at work.
Cold Cruel Kiss: A heart-stopping and addictive romantic thriller Page 6