“No reason to be? Are you kidding me? You bombed my boss and closest friends. And oh, yeah. Me.”
“You and your friends were simply collateral damage. Michael Black’s former assistant, Monica Gains, came to me. She said Mr. Black was a government agent and he was looking into seventeen disappearances now linked to my name. I was surprised, I admit. I considered Mr. Black an excellent business rival, but nothing more. She said we could help each other.”
Michael had been right.
“I rarely ask my associates for motive, but in her case, since I would be attacking the New World Order, I made an exception. Seems she had gotten herself into terrible debt, but your precious Michael wouldn’t help her. Instead, he made things worse by taking away her only source of income. And after all her years of dedicated service. Shameful.”
In his business, trust was everything, and Monica broke it. “So, when detonation day came, my friends and I were just in the wrong place at the wrong time.”
“Exactly.”
“But you decided to take advantage of the situation anyway. You sold one and took the Rakan.”
Star merely blinked, curious. “What makes you think your friend survived the blast?”
So much for not pretending. “I’ve seen the sketches. I know what you’re using him for, and I will not rest until he’s home safe.”
Star peered at him for a long while, silent, unaffected. “If I was worried about your involvement, Mr. Blue, you would be dead right now. But nothing I’ve told you can be proven, nor was it something you hadn’t already figured out on your own. I’ve taken every possible measure to protect my investment, as well as myself.”
“You’re not infallible.”
“Agree to disagree. Because, you see, Mr. Blue, if I die, your friend dies. I’m the only one who knows where he is. Without me, he will starve.”
Blue bit the side of his tongue until he tasted blood.
“Try to take my children to offer in trade, and you’ll find your friend’s parts sold at auction. An arm here, a leg there.”
“You would be condemning your children to death.”
“And I would grieve, despise you, and do everything within my ability to secure my revenge, but I wouldn’t be behind bars, and that’s what would matter most.”
How was Blue supposed to deal with a man this coldhearted?
“Speaking of my children, Tyson called me just before you arrived. He lives at the Star Light Hotel and he took Miss Black to his suite. He caught her snooping, making him wonder at her involvement in all of this. He’s determined to punish her”—Star lifted a pyre-gun—“and you’re going to be blamed.”
Twenty-two
EVIE MADE SEVERAL BLUNDERS. She had used the aphrodisiac on Tyson, and he had responded—just not the way she hoped. Lust had mutated into aggression, and he’d threatened to obliterate Blue, his need to protect his sister from the playboy far surpassing his need for sexual release.
Where she’d once thought the guy might have beaten Tiffany, she now knew otherwise. He worshipped the girl.
So, to counteract the aggression, Evie had used a small dose of the sedative.
She should have used more, but she hadn’t wanted Tyson to (1) pass out on the roof before she could convince him to take her to his room, or (2) fall asleep the moment they reached his room, ruining any kind of interrogation.
Two guards had taken her purse before allowing her past Tyson’s door, and she had been unable to think of an excuse to grab her “pen.” Then Tyson had fallen asleep when they got inside, and she should have realized it wasn’t a deep sleep, that with as small a dose as he’d had, he would wake up very quickly. Instead, she had used the time to paw through his things. He woke up, realized he had been drugged, and found her in his office. There was no talking her way out of the precarious situation.
Hands in the air, she walked around the desk.
He kept a pyre-gun trained on her. “That’s close enough.” He nodded to the pile of paperwork she’d just dropped. “Did you find anything interesting?”
Actually, yes. Confirmation of a drug habit he hadn’t kicked (paraphernalia) and confirmation that the Golden Sunrise clothing line was set to debut in two weeks (invitations).
“Finally, nothing to say.” His eyes narrowed on her. “You are a beautiful woman, Miss Black, and the time we spent on the roof made me question my decision to use you to draw out your father. But you have proved you are just like the man, and that means you must be eliminated.”
She smiled sweetly and inched a little closer to him. “Being compared to Michael Black is a compliment. But you are just like Gregory Star, and that isn’t.”
His nostrils flared. “It is.”
Please. It wasn’t, and they both knew it.
A little closer . . . “What do you have against Michael, anyway?”
“He was going to try and lock my father away—or have him killed. Star Industries would have suffered. My inheritance would have suffered. My sister and I have endured too much to lose everything now.”
Just a little closer . . . “Well,” Evie said, unwilling to feel sorry for him for whatever he’d endured at the hands of Gregory Star, “let’s see what I can do.” She kicked out her leg and batted his shooting hand. Instinctively he squeezed the trigger, but with the motion he missed her and the bright laser stream blazed through the wall.
He was startled, unprepared, and Evie was able to slam her palm into his nose, spin to his side, and elbow him in the back of the head. He fell to his knees, hissing in pain.
She reached for the gun he still held, intending to wrench it from his grip—only to hear a familiar click. She froze.
“That’s right, little girl.” The harsh voice came from the doorway. “No sudden movements.”
She glanced over, saw one of the guards who’d been posted at the front door pointing a gun at her heart, and two other men standing behind him.
Tyson shoved her away and lurched to his feet. His eyes sizzled with fury, and blood leaked from his nose. “Tie her,” he said nasally.
The pyre-gun remained trained on her as the other two guards closed the distance. Her arms were bound behind her back with laser cuffs. Prickles of fear ignited in her chest, and her blood flashed cold.
“Have the guests left?” Tyson asked.
“Yes, sir.”
“Then let’s take her to the roof.”
They were going to push her off, weren’t they?
Evie struggled against her captors as she was escorted out of the suite and toward a private elevator.
“Go ahead. Scream,” Tyson said. “No one will hear you.”
The group entered the elevator and the doors closed, sealing them inside. She mentally calculated the odds of a successful escape. If she knocked out the guy on her left with a head butt, and closed the throat of the guy on her right with a swift kick, that would leave the one with the gun and Tyson. She would be shot before she got to either male.
Thing was, that wasn’t any worse than what awaited her on the roof. So. She did it. Head butt. Guy moaned. Swift kick. Guy went down.
Except she wasn’t shot. She was pistol-whipped on the side of the head. Sharp pain slashed through her, and stars winked through her line of vision.
The two guys she’d downed scowled as they stood, and when the doors opened, they roughly hauled her forward. Any hope that a guest had lingered evaporated. The entire area was deserted. Empty glasses littered the
