“Someone has to stay with the vic, to guard him at all times.” Luke lifted his hand as he began to count off the possible abduction team members. “Someone has to go for the drop. And someone has to cover the leader’s ass.” Because the leader would never leave himself vulnerable. “And someone is the constant watcher who keeps an eye on the victim’s family.”
They needed to identify that watcher. In case it was someone in the household, Sam would continue to communicate through texts for secrecy. They weren’t taking any chances with this case.
“At a minimum,” Luke told them, “we’re looking at four people. At most, six—no more than that, though. That would mean too many hands in the pie.”
“We need that box,” Hyde stated flatly. “The sooner we dust and run a fingerprint check, the better.”
Hell, yeah. They were all on the same page there. Luke grunted. “We need to talk to those other victims.” Luke wanted to meet with them, one on one. And actually get them to answer all of his questions. But money and power—those got in the way of sit-downs. “I want them back in the country.”
Hyde nodded. “I’m working on it.”
If Hyde couldn’t get them back, no one could.
Luke considered his options. Not many. “In the meantime, let’s get them on the phone. Get a conference call set up ASAP because I need to talk to them.”
The vics were scared shitless. He got that. They wanted to pretend the nightmare that they’d lived through wasn’t real. But another man’s life was hanging in the balance.
And Luke wasn’t in this business to stop the killers after the fact—after the blood had flowed and the dead had been hauled away. He was there to save lives, dammit, and that’s what he was going to do.
Sam went to the bank with Max and Frank. She smiled at the other customers. She kept her face all nice and bland. After a few moments of small talk, the bank manager, John Adams, led them into his office, and the money was brought out to them.
Five million dollars. The price of a life. Quinlan Malone’s life.
The bank manager was sweating. So was Frank.
Not Max.
Max kept a strong hold on her hand. Almost too tight. His fingers threaded with hers, keeping her close.
He had his job to do. She had hers. “Excuse me, gentlemen,” she murmured. “Could you please direct me to the ladies room?”
The bank manager pointed to the left.
She offered him a wan smile, then she stood and walked down the narrow hallway and toward the restroom. The dress she’d borrowed from Beth shifted easily as she walked. Within moments, her hand pushed open the women’s restroom door.
As she headed toward the sink, a woman turned around, reaching for a hand towel. They bumped into each other.
The purse Sam had borrowed slipped to the floor.
“Sorry,” the woman said, her blue eyes wide. She bent, her curtain of black hair sliding around her face as she picked up the purse. “Didn’t see you there.” Her grip on the bag was firm.
Sam inclined her head. Special Agent Monica Davenport always had perfect timing. “No harm done.” The finger and the box were inside that purse, covered by a plastic bag.
The exchange was made in less than ten seconds.
When Sam walked back out, her head was up, the bag was hanging on her arm, and Max waited for her, a duffel bag gripped in each of his hands.
Her gaze darted to the bags.
“Let’s get out of here,” Frank said.
A guard stepped forward and led them to the door. Sam’s borrowed heels—way too tight—clicked on the floor. It seemed like every eye was on them.
Frank had his personal guard with him. Jared Kinney doubled as his driver and his bodyguard. Sam had learned that Jared lived at the Malone house, in an apartment above the garage.
Jared pushed open the door. Bright sunlight hit Sam in the eyes. In another hour, the sun would be setting. It had taken so long for the bank manager to get that money ready. Too much daylight had already been lost.
But another phone call had to come that day. If the kidnappers followed their established routine, they would contact Max again soon.
They walked down the steps, slow and steady, not saying a word. Jared opened the door of the Cadillac for Frank. When the older man was inside, Max handed off the duffel bags. Max’s Jeep waited on the other side of the road. He turned away.
But Frank grabbed his hand. “You’re coming back to the house?”
Max stared down at him.
“I need you. You have to stay ’til this mess is over.”
“I’ll be back.” Max eased away. Jared slammed the door. She and Max watched as the long car pulled away.
When the light changed, she and Max began to walk across the street. A slow, direct stride as—
A car’s engine roared to life.
Sam’s head whipped to the right. A small, black BMW headed straight for them, coming fast, so fast…
What the hell? Her heart slammed into her ribs in a split-second of understanding. “Run!” The damn car was aiming right for them. Coming closer, faster, turning to follow them as they rushed across the nearly deserted street.
No, not them. The car wasn’t aiming at them.
She shoved Max forward and felt the rush of air behind her as she launched after him. Sam slammed into Max, and they crashed onto the cement. The smell of burnt rubber and blood filled her nose. She pushed upright as quickly as she could and turned back to see the taillights on the car vanish as the BMW took a hard right and disappeared.
“What the hell?”
Sam glanced at Max. He was up on his knees and brushing off hands that dripped blood.
Just like hers did. The cement could be a real bitch. “We need to get off this street. Now.”
“Because some ass**le ran the light?”
“No.” She grabbed his arm and all but jerked him toward the Jeep. “Because I’m pretty sure some ass**le just tried to kill you.”
CHAPTER Six
The angel in the red dress came up to him in a cloud of perfume and sex. Adam Warrant blinked at her, took another long look, and enjoyed the view. “Baby, where have you been all my life?”
She smiled at him and reached for his beer bottle. Pretty fingers. Long and pale. Blood-red fingertips traced the mouth of his beer. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.” Those fingers circled the mouth of the beer again. “But I’m here now, Adam.”
His brows furrowed. The music was so damn loud. He could barely hear her. He leaned in closer and caught more of her scent. Just like sex. His c**k throbbed. The top of her dress nearly showed her ni**les. “Who are you?”