“She was with you at the airport. I saw you.”
“They came for her in Baja. At the time, I thought it was you.”
“No. Jesus, I’m on her side. I’m her brother!”
“But your text messages-”
“Shit. Are you the one who made her suddenly stop trusting me and suspect me instead?”
Noah opened his mouth, then shut it, because yes, that had been him.
“I thought she was safe with you, man. Or I’d have-”
“What?” Noah said. “Come clean and told her the truth? You should have done that anyway!”
“Yes, but they had to know for sure…”
When he trailed off, Noah’s blood ran cold. “Wait a minute. Wait a fucking minute. You thought…you actually thought she might be in on it?”
“I didn’t, but they needed proof-”
“Okay, you listen very carefully,” Noah said, feeling extremely violent. “You screwed this up by not trusting her and telling her the truth at any time since Alan’s death. You could have protected her better. You could have believed in her. If you had, none of this would have happened.”
Kenny let out a breath. “I know.”
“Here’s how to repay her. You meet that plane with every single resource you have, making damn well and sure she’s not harmed in the process-”
“Yeah, except we can’t. We need her to lead us to the money-”
“Jesus. Jesus Christ,” Noah breathed. “You’re using her as bait.”
“Not me,” Kenny said tightly. “Believe me, this is not what I wanted, but we need to catch these guys in the act. So just tell me exactly where they’re taking her, and I’ll make sure this thing has a happy ending.”
“What? How can you be sure of that? You haven’t managed to protect her so far.”
“I was doing a damn fine job until you turned her on me.”
Yeah. Shit.
Noah looked at Shayne, who paused in the middle of his landing preparation and nodded. Trust him. Do this.
Noah didn’t want to. He wanted to be the one to haul her into his arms and know she was safe, damn it.
He let out a tight breath. “They’re going to the Burbank house.”
“But that place was already searched, way back after Alan’s death.”
“For hidden safes?”
“No, but that house is on the market, people have been in and out of there-”
“It’s still furnished, isn’t it? With artwork included?”
Kenny swore softly. “I can be there in thirty minutes, with backup.”
Noah looked at Shayne, who nodded grimly. They could be there in thirty minutes as well. “Meet you there,” Noah said, and hung up. “I really didn’t see that coming. He’s on the good side. Jesus, Shayne, we’re going to run out of fuel at this speed.”
“You wanted to haul ass, I’m hauling ass.”
“At least it’s not Brody. He flies like a woman.”
Shayne looked pained. “Don’t let him hear you say that. He’ll kick your ass.”
Chapter 25
Bailey woke up with a monster headache and a horrible groggy sensation that reminded her of a bad hangover. Worse, she’d believed she couldn’t get any more terrified, but despite the fact that they’d left her alone on the plane, she knew that wasn’t going to last long.
They took her from the private jet to yet another dark SUV, and though she’d thought she’d scream real loud and gain some unwanted attention for her captors, she never saw another soul. Even if she had, she felt so weak and discombobulated, she couldn’t have worked up enough strength to scream.
They drove to the Burbank house. How ironic, she thought as they brought her inside, to be back here where it’d all begun. It seemed like years ago since she’d packed a bag and walked away from this life. In fact, it’d only been barely a week.
And only three days since she’d brought Noah into the mix. At the thought of him, her heart clenched hard.
She was shoved into the living room, and with her legs so weak, she went flying, falling against a bookshelf. At the impact, books rained down over the top of her. She sat there on the floor, dazed, taking in the design that Alan had picked out, and the cool, modern furniture he’d loved so much but was so damned uncomfortable it was all like sitting on a cactus. He’d loved this place, and for the fortune he’d spent having it decorated, he should.
Precious.
I’ve kept it all safe, Precious.
The words mocked her now, bouncing around in her brain. Or maybe that was the drugs…
The money was here. She knew that with a certainty.
“Now.” Stephen walked up to her, his toes nearly touching hers, looked down his long, straight nose at her. “Where?”
“I don’t know.”
“Ding, ding, wrong answer.”
His two goons bent and dragged her to her feet, then stood on either side of her, holding her up. They had no choice; her legs were noodles. One of her arms hurt from the needle they’d jammed into it. Her belly was quivering from the first time they’d done this whole talk-to-me thing, and now that she’d had a taste, she shook with fear and the need to throw up. “If I knew exactly where,” she said, “I’d have found it by now.”
“So you lied before, when you said you knew.”
Oh, God. Not good. “I said I could find it, and I will.” This was another lie, and her voice quavered just a little bit. Please don’t notice…
The man nodded thoughtfully, then stepped forward and without warning slid his fingers in her hair and yanked her head back hard enough to bring tears to her eyes. “Tell me the truth,” he said softly, almost kindly. “Or I will have both your brother and the man who’s been flying you around hunted and killed.” He looked directly into her eyes and smiled. “Like Alan.”
Then he stepped back, and nodded to the men to release her.
She slid to the floor.
They all looked down at her, waiting.
I’ve kept it all safe, precious. Precious. The name of this house. Safe.
It would be in the safe in the bedroom behind the large framed print over their bed upstairs. She knew that now.
She realized she should have known it sooner, as in soon enough to save her own ass. Because now she had no doubt that if she handed over the money, the need to keep her alive became slim and none. In fact, she’d become an instant detriment.
Stall. Noah is moving hell and high water to get here. She knew it. “Mrs. Sinclair, you’ve kept us waiting long enough.”
On legs that shook, she managed to stand, then realized her head was clearing. But playing it up a little, she staggered a few feet. Immediately, the two goons moved in to help her.
“Where to?” Stephen asked.
“Upstairs.”
She’d no sooner said the words than they assisted her up the stairs.
In the hallway, she considered her next move.
“Mrs. Sinclair,” Stephen said smoothly. “You’re trying my patience.” He flicked his wrist, and a blade flashed before her eyes, settling against her throat.
“Master bedroom,” she said tightly.
