Six

 

Jared put his gun down on the table, waiting to hear the click of the lock on the bedroom door, but it didn't come. He was surprised. Parisa definitely didn't trust him, but, apparently, she trusted him enough. He wished he could say the same.

She'd clearly been speaking to someone in law enforcement, probably the man she'd called earlier. And she had some kind of credentials. If she'd just been a witness to the kidnapping, she would not have been given any facts about what was happening at the consulate or where the Kumars were now staying.

If he had to guess, he'd say she was FBI. Her driver to the safe house had been Special Agent Damon Wolfe. And when she'd made her call from the car earlier, even though she'd been careful in her word choices, it had been clear that she knew the person she was speaking to.

Pulling his laptop computer from the top drawer of his desk, he opened it, and logged into an encrypted site. There, he found a copy of the police report that Gary had sent him—the interview between the police and Parisa. He skimmed through the report, noting that Parisa had stated that she'd gone upstairs with Jasmine, because the bride-to-be wanted a break from all the attention. Had that really been it?

The kidnappers had only put the toxins in the third-floor ventilation system, which was a newer system and separate from the one servicing the first two floors. Someone had to know that Jasmine would go upstairs. Had Parisa actually been the one to set Jasmine up? To get her to go to her bedroom?

His gaze narrowed on that thought. But that would make Parisa a conspirator, and he didn't believe that. If he hadn't found her and gotten her out of the bedroom, she could have easily died along with the guards.

But who else would have known that Jasmine would even go upstairs during the party?

Or had the kidnappers planned to do it later that evening?

He frowned, hating when a piece of the puzzle didn't fit. Jasmine could have easily gone home with Westley that night. In fact, she probably would have.

There was something he was missing. But what?

Leaving that question hanging, he spent the next fifteen minutes reading through witness statements, none of which were of value to the investigation as far as he could see. He noted that Gordon Roberts, the security guard who had been posted at the back stairway, had disappeared. Two waiters had also vanished after the kidnapping—Victor Salgetti and Ray Bateen. Gary was already researching the three men, and he was sure the other agencies involved were doing the same. Hopefully, someone had left a clue behind.

Clicking out of the police report, he pulled up photos of Sara Pillai and Isaac Naru. He wanted to show them to Parisa. She claimed she'd never heard of them, but there might be a chance she'd seen them somewhere, possibly at the party.

Sara was a slim girl of twenty-two, with brown hair that she almost always wore in a ponytail. She had striking features, and he could certainly see why twenty-one-year-old Ben had fallen for her. The photograph of her had been taken in Paris a week before the explosion. She and Ben had had a picnic in front of the Eiffel Tower and Ben appeared to be completely infatuated with the woman sitting on the blanket across from him.

The moment, the relationship, seemed innocent and not at all noteworthy, if not for what had happened a week later.

His gaze moved to the second photo. Isaac Naru was a short and stocky man of twenty-nine years, with a square face and a brooding, shifty expression. His photo had been caught by a security camera at London's Heathrow Airport as he'd waited to board a plane to Paris three days before the explosion. Had he been contemplating what he was about to do?

Neither step-siblings had been seen since the blast at the café. There had been no record of them leaving Paris or arriving anywhere else. Ben had departed Paris four days after the blast. He'd taken a direct flight to JFK Airport. For the past two weeks, he'd been staying with his parents at the apartment they'd rented a year earlier. Ben didn't appear to be taking classes, although he had not yet graduated from Everly.

He opened another computer window and pulled up a photograph of Ben that he'd taken at the party. He really wished now that he'd made a move on Ben while he'd had the chance. He'd been waiting to see if he'd connect with Sara or Isaac, but he'd waited too long.

He heard a click and as the bedroom door opened, his attention moved to Parisa. She'd changed out of her leggings into dark-blue jeans and a cream-colored ribbed V-neck sweater that clung to some very nice, full breasts.

A knot entered his throat as his gaze moved to her face. Her eye was not as swollen as it had been, but there was purple-and-black bruising around the lid and the bridge of her nose.

Despite the bruises, she had beautiful features with her wide-set dark eyes, long, sweeping lashes, and a sexy mouth. Her skin had a warm, honey-glow, and was creamy, no freckles or skin spots—nothing to mar the perfection.

His pulse sped up as she looked back at him, as he felt the strong pull of attraction that had hit him the first moment he'd seen her. For a split second, at the party, he'd almost forgotten why he was there, what he was supposed to be doing. And he couldn't make that mistake now.

It wasn't going to be easy to concentrate with her around, but he would have to find a way. Later…maybe later…they could explore some other distractions.

Not that she'd probably stick around for later.

Not that he probably would, either.

But there was something exciting about that, too.

Parisa cleared her throat, as if her thoughts had been going down the same dangerous road. "What are you doing?" she asked.

He tried to remember what he was doing, but the blood in his brain was rushing to other parts of his body.

"On the computer," she added.

"Right. I want to show you some photos."

She moved next to him and peered over his shoulder as she took a look at the three pictures. "I recognize Ben, of course. I'm guessing the woman is Sara Pillai?"

"Yes. And the other guy is her stepbrother, Isaac Naru. Have you seen them before? Did you notice if either Sara or Isaac were at the party?"

She immediately shook her head. "I'm sure I've never seen them. When were the photos of Ben and Sara taken?"

"Several days before the blast."

"Ben looks happy, carefree, not like someone about to do something terrible."

"Maybe he didn't know what his girlfriend was involved in."

"Are you sure she was his girlfriend?"

"Look at the photo."

"I see two people having a picnic."

"They were inseparable for a week, spending every day and every night together." He paused, deciding to tell her a bit more. "Sara had been working in Paris for about two months before Ben showed up there during his study abroad program. She was a waitress at the Café Douceur."

"That's interesting." She pulled out a chair and sat down across from him. "What about Isaac?"

"He had been working in London but quit his job about six weeks before the explosion. He made a trip to Bezikstan during that time and another trip to Mumbai. When he got to Paris, he stayed at a hostel."

"Not with his sister?"

"Sara had three roommates in a very small flat. But once Ben arrived, she was staying in his hotel room."

Parisa gave him a thoughtful look. "You know a lot about them, Jared."

"I do my research."

"Was Sara working at the café the day of the blast?"

"She called in sick. Good timing, huh?" he asked, unable to hide the bitter note in his voice.

Parisa immediately picked up on it, her gaze narrowing. "This feels personal, Jared."

"I tend to get personally involved in my stories. It's a bad habit, but sometimes it makes the end result better. Because I care, I go the extra mile."

"Right. That might be true, but I don't really believe you. At any rate, you said the authorities are looking for Sara and Isaac, and I would assume for other members of this radical group. Why don't you just let them do it? Or work with them?"

"If the authorities find them before I do, that's great, but the more days that pass, the greater the odds that anyone will be held responsible for that explosion."

"All right," she said, getting to her feet. "I appreciate you sharing the pictures with me, and I think your goal is a good one. I would love to take down these terrorists, but right now, I need to focus on Jasmine."

"I understand."

"Are you ready to go to the hotel?"

"Sure." He closed the computer. "Before we leave—why do you think the kidnappers set up the toxin for the third floor when Jasmine had been staying at Westley's house almost every night last week? How could they guarantee she'd ever go up there with the ring on her finger?"

She stared back at him. "That came up in my discussion with the police. I don't have an answer. Although, I do believe that we were in Jasmine's bedroom. Her purse was there. She moved it from the couch to the table. I'm sure she would have gone upstairs to get it at some point, even if she was planning on leaving the building."

He nodded. "Good point. Have any other details from last night come back into your head?"

"I just remember seeing men's shoes go by. There are garbled sounds in my head, but I can't identify the word—if any were spoken. I might be imagining it. The sound could have come from my heart pounding loudly against my chest." She took a breath. "I knew—I just knew that if I gave into unconsciousness, I'd never wake up."

"Maybe that's why you survived. You were fighting." He gave her a thoughtful look. "Just like you were fighting last night when that guy was choking you."

At his words, she put her hand to her throat, and he could still see the faint traces of redness on her skin.

"I would have taken him down," she said. "I just needed one more second to get leverage."

"If you had one more second. You're not lacking in confidence, I'll say that."

"Neither are you."

He tipped his head. "That's true. I'm also a fighter. I don't quit."

"I don't quit, either. Let's go to the Clairmont. We'll have a better chance finding answers there than here."

 

* * *

 

The Saturday traffic was crazy busy. Jared maneuvered through crowded side streets in an attempt to make his way around several parades. It took them almost an hour to go about four miles, and the clock had just passed ten thirty. Every minute that passed seemed like one more minute wasted. Parisa grew increasingly frustrated. They needed information, a lead, something…

It would have been faster to take the subway, but she wasn't ready to throw herself into a big crowd just yet. There would be too many faces to scan, too few escape routes.

"We don't have a tail," Jared said, as she not only glanced in her sideview mirror but also looked over her shoulder. "I've been watching."

"Damon was watching last night, and he didn't see you."

"Damon?" he queried. "Would that be Special Agent Damon Wolfe?"

"Yes," she said, realizing she'd sounded a bit too familiar, but it was too late to take it back.

"Sounds like you got really friendly on your ride home from the hospital."

"He's a friendly guy."

"But not that good at spotting a tail."

She decided to leave that alone. Thankfully, they were nearing the Clairmont Hotel, which was tucked on a side street near the park and not far from the consulate. There was a valet in front, and Jared pulled into the line.

"You're not going in with me," she reminded him.

"I'll wait in the lobby. There's nowhere to park around here. I need to valet the car."

She didn't like it, but she couldn't argue. "Fine, but I'm getting out now. No one needs to see us enter the hotel together."

"Go for it. And, Parisa, while I know your goal is to save Jasmine, if you get a chance to ask about Ben—"

"I will," she said, cutting him off. Then she got out of the car and walked into the lobby.

The Clairmont was a five-star luxury hotel with a lobby that glittered with gorgeous glass chandeliers and sleek marble floors. There was a piano bar by the windows, where a gifted pianist was entertaining guests, some of whom were seated at cozy tables, others at the bar.

Her gaze moved to the front desk and the adjacent bank of elevators. There was a hotel clerk checking keys before guests went up in the elevators. In addition, there were several men in dark suits, who appeared to be watching the area as well. She was guessing those men were there to protect the Kumars.

Knowing that she wouldn't be able to sneak up to the top floor, she boldly approached the female front desk clerk. She gave her name and asked the woman to contact the Kumars and let them know she wanted to see them. The clerk told her to wait and then went into the back room.

She tapped her fingers impatiently on the counter, then turned her head, her gaze sweeping the lobby. Jared had taken a seat at the bar that faced the lobby area where she was standing and had ordered a drink. He gave her a subtle nod and a smile, reminding her of when she'd first seen him at the party. He definitely had the ability to slide into any scene and look like he belonged there.

A moment later, an attractive blonde dressed in boots and a short sweater dress took the seat next to him, giving him a warm smile.

She frowned at the weird feeling that ran through her. She had no reason to care that he was now talking to the woman, except that it felt a little wrong. He was supposed to be on guard, watching the lobby, keeping an eye out for problems, not flirting.

What if that woman was a plant, someone meant to distract him?

But no one was after Jared. No one was aware of his activities at the consulate the night before—at least she didn't think so. She didn't really know for sure.

And she was being ridiculous. Maybe even a little jealous. What on earth was wrong with her? Why was she even thinking about Jared when her focus should be solely on Jasmine?

Glancing toward the elevator bank, she saw a man walking toward her. He'd been with Kabir Bhatt, the director of Bezikstan security, at the hospital, but she hadn't been given this man's name.

"Miss Maxwell," he said in a voice laced in a faint British accent. "I'm Sanji Gupta. I'll take you upstairs."

"Thank you," she said, accompanying him to the elevator. She was relieved that the Kumars had agreed to see her.

He put in a security card to access the penthouse suites, and within seconds, they reached the top floor. They walked down a thickly-carpeted corridor to the end of the hall where large double doors were being guarded by two uniformed men with guns clearly visible. The men nodded to Sanji and opened the door.

A female dressed in a black sheath dress greeted her and then escorted her into the living room. Kenisha and Anika were seated across from each other—Kenisha on a plush white sofa and Anika in a chair by a gas fireplace that offered a warming fire. They looked exhausted and terrified.

Both women came to their feet as she entered the room.

Kenisha gave her a teary smile as she opened her arms.

She embraced Mrs. Kumar, feeling her trembling shoulders, knowing that Jasmine's disappearance was ripping her apart. Then she turned to Anika, whose hug was much lighter, but whose gaze was just as troubled.

"Would you like some tea?" Kenisha asked, motioning toward the silver tray on the coffee table. "The water is still hot."

"That would be nice," she said, as she sat down on the sofa next to Kenisha. "My throat is still a bit sore."

"But you're feeling better now?" Anika asked. "We've been so worried about you."

"Yes. I'm better." She almost felt guilty admitting that she felt close to normal when Jasmine…who knew what condition she was in? But she couldn't let those fearful thoughts overwhelm her. "Is there any news?"

Anika shook her head. "No. It's as if my sister disappeared into thin air. I don't understand how no one saw her being carried out of the building, although there's apparently some tunnel through the basement that none of us knew about. But still, how did she get to the basement unseen? There were hundreds of people around."

"It's very disturbing," she agreed.

"You were lucky that you managed to get yourself out of the room and into the stairwell," Anika continued. "The guards were not so fortunate."

She couldn't help but see the question in Anika's eyes, the suspicion of something… "I guess the fumes were worse in the hall than in the bedroom."

"But you said Jasmine collapsed almost immediately," Kenisha put in.

"Yes. Jasmine jumped up, and I think maybe she was closer to the vent than I was. She fell to the floor. I tried to get to her, but I couldn't. I'm so sorry." Her voice broke as guilt swamped her.

"No one is blaming you," Kenisha said gently. "There was nothing you could do, Parisa."

"Why did you go upstairs?" Anika asked. "Mr. Bhatt told us that Jasmine wanted to speak to you alone, but it didn't sound as if your conversation was about anything too important, unless he didn't relay that information to us."

"Jasmine felt overwhelmed by the attention, all the eyes on her. She wanted a minute to catch her breath, so we went upstairs. She said the ring was weighing her down."

"Jasmine has always had a shy quality about her," Kenisha said, tears welling up in her eyes. "I wish she'd told Westley that she didn't want to wear that enormous ring. And I wish I'd encouraged her to speak up. She expressed some doubts to me about accepting such an expensive gift, but I told her that she would hurt his feelings if she didn't wear it at the party. This is my fault."

"It's not your fault," she said quickly. "It was Jasmine's choice, and she did tell me that she wanted to show Westley how much she appreciated his magnificent gesture."

"Westley loves a magnificent gesture," Anika said with an edge in her voice. "But the diamond was cursed, and he never should have given it to Jasmine."

"I don't believe in curses," Kenisha told her oldest daughter.

"Well, look what happened," Anika snapped back. Then her expression immediately shifted. "I'm sorry, Mother. I didn't mean that."

"I know you're upset," Kenisha said.

"Upset doesn't begin to cover it."

"What did you mean when you said Westley loves magnificent gestures?" Parisa asked.

"He likes a show. Wasn't that obvious last night? Most of the people at that party were his friends or his father's colleagues or were from his mother's country club. There were only a few people from Jasmine's world, from the university. It bothers me how she's willing to surrender her life to him."

"That's not what she's doing," Kenisha interrupted, frowning at Anika. "She's compromising. Love is about compromise. It's about being a good partner to the person you love."

"It seems to me that women do all the compromising. Look at you and Father. You were going to be a doctor once, but you didn't pursue your studies because of him."

"My dreams changed when I fell in love, as did Jasmine's. You will one day understand that, Anika."

"I seriously doubt it. I'm not going to give up my life for a man."

The woman in the sheath dress returned to the room, interrupting their conversation. "Mrs. Kumar? Mrs. Langdon is on the phone again. Would you like to speak with her? Or shall I take a message?"

"Yes, of course," Kenisha said, getting to her feet. "Excuse me. Elizabeth has already called several times. I need to talk to her."

Parisa nodded, taking a sip of tea as Kenisha left the room. Then she turned to Anika. "It's nice that your family and the Langdons have remained close over the years."

"It all started when your stepfather was the ambassador, and we all got together. After you left, we stayed in touch with the Langdons. Once Ben decided to go to Everly, and my father got the consulate assignment here, the Langdons rented an apartment so they could spend more time in Manhattan. In fact, Neil is a guest professor at Everly now."

"Jasmine must see a lot of Ben and Neil since they're both on campus."

"I don't know how much she sees Neil, but Jasmine took Ben under her wing as soon as he arrived in New York. They're really tight. He spends a lot of time at the consulate. Although, since Jasmine started dating Westley, I think she's seen Ben a lot less."

"Does Ben have a girlfriend?" She might as well get some information for Jared since Ben had come up so easily into the conversation. "When I saw him last night, I could hardly believe how grown up he is."

"He told Jasmine he got together with someone he used to know in Paris last month, but it was a mistake. He gave her another chance to hurt him, and she did."

"Ouch."

"Love doesn't last very long when you're twenty-one, at least, not in my experience."

"Mine, either," she admitted.

"My mother thinks I'm jealous of Jasmine and Westley's love, but I'm not," Anika said, surprising Parisa with her words.

"Why would she think that?"

"Because I challenge Jasmine to stand up to Westley. I'm not trying to sabotage their relationship. I just want to make sure that she asserts herself as his equal, as someone he should respect."

"You don't think he respects her?"

"Honestly? I'm not sure. I think he loves her. But respect is something else. Is she just a pretty wife to introduce to his friends, his exotic flower, as he likes to call her? Or will she really be his partner? I just don't want him to break her heart, and I think he's the kind of man who could do that."

"Well, he looked pretty heartbroken last night."

"Yes, he was very upset, and I'm sorry for speaking negatively about him. I guess it's easier to be angry with Westley for giving Jasmine that damn ring and making her a target for thieves than thinking about where she is right now and what she's going through. I'm really worried, Parisa."

"I know. Me, too." She took another sip of her tea, then said, "Have you spoken to Westley today?"

"He called earlier, and we exchanged a few tense words, but that was about it. He's waiting for a ransom demand. So is my father. I just don't know what we're going to do if nothing comes. I also don't know what we'll do if we get a demand. How can we be sure they'll let Jasmine go, even if whatever they want is paid? They already killed those two guards. Will they be afraid to kill Jasmine? It doesn't seem like it."

Anika was painting a dark but accurate picture. "I would try to concentrate on the positive," she said gently. "We still have hope."

Anika blew out a breath as she twisted her hands together. "I just keep asking myself what if I'd done something differently…what if I'd never introduced Jasmine to Westley, what if I'd convinced Westley not to give her the ring, what if I'd stayed closer to her last night…"

"What-ifs will drive you crazy, Anika."

"I know, but my brain won't stop going around in that vicious circle. Westley was doing the same thing when I spoke to him earlier. He's also worried that he's going to be a person of interest."

"Why would he be worried about that?"

"Isn't the boyfriend always a suspect in cases like these?"

"I guess. But the diamond belongs to his family, so I don't think he'd steal it."

"Probably not."

"What do you mean?" she asked curiously. "Do you have some doubt?"

"No, it's stupid."

"Just say it, Anika."

"Jasmine told me that Westley and his father had a big fight one day, that Westley wants to start a new branch of Larimer Enterprises, but his father has a tight hold on the purse strings, that he doesn't pay Westley close to what he deserves, so he can keep him subservient to him. Phillip is apparently that way with Westley's brother and sister, too. The only reason Phillip agreed to give Westley the ring is that it's a Larimer tradition to pass that diamond on to the first son at his engagement."

She thought about what Anika had just said. "You're suggesting that that diamond might be worth more to Westley if he could sell it? But as long as it's on Jasmine's finger, he can't do that."

"I told you it was a stupid idea."

"Actually, it would be an incredibly clever way to get the diamond for himself."

"But it doesn't make sense that Jasmine would be kidnapped."

"Not if he really loves her, no."

"It could have been a mistake. Perhaps they were only supposed to take the ring. I do think Westley loves her," Anika said, but there was still some doubt in her voice. Her phone buzzed on the table next to her, and she reached for it, reading what appeared to be an incoming text. An odd expression flashed across her face, and then she set the phone down. "I need to go into my office. Bill wants me to talk about what he can do to help Jasmine. He has a lot of investigative connections through the WNN network."

"Of course." She didn't know why Anika was lying, but she was. Had it been her boss sending the text? Or had one of the kidnappers reached out to someone who wasn't sitting next to a police officer or an FBI agent?

"I should go, too," she said quickly, as Anika got to her feet. Maybe she and Jared could tail Anika and see if she did, in fact, go to meet Bill. "Should I wait and say good-bye to your mother?"

"When she and Elizabeth get on the phone, it usually goes on for some time."

"Then I'll walk down with you."

"Let me get my coat."

As Anika left the room, she texted Jared to get the car and told him Anika would soon be on the move. She didn't know if Anika was going straight to her office, but there had been something concerning in her gaze, and if there was a chance the kidnappers had contacted Anika, Parisa wanted to find out where she was going.

She put her phone into her bag as Anika returned to the room, having thrown a beautiful wool black-and-white coat over her black dress. Her legs were bare despite the winter weather, her feet encased in three-inch-high black pumps. She couldn't help thinking that while Anika's eyes showed signs of stress, her outward appearance was quite put together.

"I wish we could have had this reunion under better circumstances," Anika said. "There's so much I want to talk to you about. I'd love to hear about your life."

"I'd love to hear about yours as well."

"When this is all over," Anika said, determined hope in her voice.

"Yes. We'll do it then." She followed Anika out of the suite and past the guards, one of whom accompanied them to the elevator. "Do you normally live at the consulate, or—"

"No, I have an apartment in Midtown that I share with Jasmine. I would have gone there last night, but my mother was so distraught, and I didn't want her to be alone."

"So, the room at the consulate, where Jasmine and I were talking—that isn't her bedroom?"

"It is when she stays there. My parents have a room set aside for each of us, and we occasionally stay the night after a family dinner. Why do you ask?" Anika gave her a questioning look as they stepped onto the elevator, the guard staying close to Anika's side.

"I was just wondering how the kidnappers would have known that Jasmine would take me upstairs to that bedroom. Why would they have had reason to think she'd ever go up to the third floor?"

"I've wondered that, too," Anika admitted. "That's why I was asking you earlier why she suggested you go upstairs."

She saw something suspicious in Anika's gaze that she had to address. "If you're thinking I had anything to do with this, you'd be wrong."

"But you did survive an attack in which two men were killed and my sister was kidnapped."

She was surprised at the bluntness of Anika's statement. "I barely survived. I understand that you're looking for answers, Anika, but I like Jasmine very much and I would never hurt her."

"I want to believe that. It's just strange that she had to have a private conversation with you in the middle of her engagement party."

"I honestly think she just wanted to take a breath." Parisa paused, as they moved off the elevator, the guard walking a few steps ahead of them. "Did you tell Jasmine that I wanted to speak to her?"

"No, I didn't speak to Jasmine about you," Anika replied, pausing in the middle of the lobby. "Why do you ask?"

"She said something about how happy she'd been to learn I wanted to talk to her. And both you and Jasmine suggested that I reached out to the family for an invite, but I didn't do that, Anika. I didn't know about the engagement until I got the invitation to the party, which came through my stepfather's assistant."

Anika frowned. "My mother told me you reached out to her, saying how happy you were about Jasmine's engagement. Why would she make that up?"

"I don't know. Maybe my mother said something to her and just didn't mention it to me."

"That's probably it. My car is outside. Do you need a ride somewhere?"

"No, I'm going to walk. But can I get your number? I'd like to keep in touch."

"Of course."

She put Anika's number into her phone, noting that Anika did not ask for hers. Then she followed her out of the hotel.

Jared's vehicle was idling two cars behind a black SUV, where a man in a suit waited for Anika.

Once Anika was in the SUV, she walked over to Jared's car and slid into the passenger seat.

"Where are we going?" he asked.

"We'll soon find out. Follow that car."