Chapter Twenty-Nine
Pause . . . Pause everything.
Easier said than done.
Random car explosions had a way of attracting police attention. Fortunately, or perhaps unfortunately, Gabi wasn’t able to communicate with the authorities. The amount of friends that exploded on the scene was ridiculous. And to sweeten the pot, the media had parked themselves outside the hospital doors in search of a story.
Hunter looked around the lobby of acquaintances and found one set of stoic eyes. He waved Neil over and suggested they find a quiet, private place to talk.
“The police are asking questions,” Neil told him once they were alone.
“The caller said no police.” Hunter ran a hand on the back side of his neck.
“Tell me exactly what he said.”
Hunter rephrased the first conversation on the phone, and then told Neil about the second. “Both times, the phone calls came in from phone numbers I recognized. First was Gabi’s cell, then a colleague.”
“So our guy has hacking skills.”
“How can he do that?”
“Same way someone sends e-mails about Viagra to you using Grandma’s e-mail address. All you need is a contact list.”
Hadn’t Remington said that his phone had been jacked in Columbia? “Fuck.”
“He had a thick Hispanic accent.”
Neil scowled. “Like, say, a Colombian drug lord?”
Hunter came to the same conclusion. “Have you heard from your people in Florida?”
“I have the name Diaz. No description. From what I’m told, he has all his dirty work done for him. His drug operation is well-oiled, and if anyone on his route is caught, they end up dead. Looks like he has ties to the prison system in Colombia, as well as Florida and Texas. He’s been quiet since Picano’s last shipment ended up in the bottom of the ocean.”
Hunter shook his head. “I deal with corporate sharks, Neil. This is out of my league.”
“Lucky for you, I’m not out of mine. I’ll have my cyber team work on the cell phone calls. You need to convince Gabi to accept a house arrest until we solve this. We can protect her there.”
“The car was in our garage this morning.”
“Didn’t you tell me it was in the shop last week?”
He’d forgotten that.
Neil moved on. “I’ll check on that. Most likely our guy used that opportunity.”
“How did he know there was an opportunity to take?”
“He’s watching you. Watching Gabi.”
Hunter found himself looking around.
“What about Hayden?”
“It’s easier to protect him in your home.”
“I don’t have custody yet. If I mention any of this to the mother, she’ll run to the wrong people, painting a target on both of them.”
“Is there someone you can trust to make them disappear?”
Holy hell.
He was so screwed.
They released her from the hospital the next day. Gabi’s hearing returned and the only indication that she’d escaped near death was a broken arm and a scraped shin. Val had called her first thing in the morning to express his concern and offer her safe haven on his island. Thankfully, Neil and Gwen had convinced her brother and the rest of the family to stay away. She spoke to her brother in Italian, doing her best to keep any possible ears eavesdropping from understanding her words.
“I want you home, Gabi.”
“And invite this on your doorstep? I don’t think so. I made this bed.”
She heard her brother grunt. “If you weren’t married to this man, none of this would have happened.”
“Or I could be dead. Please, Val, don’t make this harder than it is. I will call you every day.”
“And text me every night.”
“Fine. Please try not to worry.”
They spoke for a few minutes before Val finally relented and hung up.
A new car drove Gabi home. There was a car that followed with more security than any one woman should ever need. She couldn’t imagine the secret service providing this kind of detail.
Andrew met her at the door with a hesitant smile. “So happy you’re home, Mrs. Blackwell.”
“Thank you, Andrew.” She looked around the living room, where nothing had changed. Hunter wasn’t there.
He’d left her side during her conversation with Val without a commitment of his return. Gwen had whispered in her ear, once her hearing had returned, that Hunter and Neil were working closely together. She’d also told Gabi that a mandatory house arrest was in order to keep her protected.
Seemed life had been slapping her in the face enough for Gabi to heed her friend’s words.
Refusing more than a couple of Motrin for the pain in her arm, Gabi moved slower than she’d have liked. As easy as it would have been to find her bed, literally, and lie in it, she opened up her computer and ran it through several security checks. She wasn’t big on social media and didn’t have to worry about eyes there. But there were a few online accounts that she dropped into and changed all her passwords.
She called and canceled her cell phone service, found another carrier, and ordered a phone to be delivered with a new number. She logged into the foreign accounts, determined nothing in them had changed, and backed out. Gabi systematically went through a list of the items she needed to replace from her missing purse. Crazy how when it blew up, everything slowed down. Credit cards . . . driver’s license.
When it was all done, Gabi pushed away from the desk and moved into the kitchen.
Andrew and Solomon stopped talking when she entered the room.
“This is going to get uncomfortable in one day if you don’t stop doing that,” she told them both.
“Sorry, Mrs. B.”
She crossed to the pantry and looked inside. “I need to go to the store,” she said.
“Uhm . . . Mr. B. suggested we stay here.”
She knew that. “Let me rephrase. I need groceries from the market. We can order them to be delivered, ask a stranger to show up, or someone can go for me.”
As it turned out, they ordered the food and Andrew went with a security guard to retrieve it.
One-handed baking wasn’t ideal, but it kept her from wondering where the hell Hunter had been gone to all day.
She had questions.
Questions only he could answer.
When she pulled the last of the cookies from the oven, the guard at the gate informed her that the police were requesting a conversation with her.
Solomon was on the phone before the team of officers were let into the house.
Connor led the police into the house and stood at the door. Both men wore uniforms with every possible toy needed tucked in their belts. One kept his side to Connor while the other scanned the room as he entered. She approached the two men and told them her name.
“Thank you for speaking with us, Mrs. Blackwell. I’m Officer Delgado. We spoke on the phone last week.”
“Yes, about the missing boy.”
“Right.”
“I hope you found him.”
The policed exchanged glances. “We did. Unfortunately he was deceased.”
Gabi felt her jaw drop. “Oh, no . . . what happened?”
“We’re treating it as a homicide. He was found inside his burned-out work van in the desert past Lancaster.”
“That’s awful.”
“His family is devastated.”
“I can’t imagine. What can I do for you? I already told you what I know.”
Officer Delgado looked at Solomon, who had just entered the room, and Connor, who was at the door. His eyes traveled over Andrew before returning to Gabi. “Didn’t your car blow up yesterday?”
Her face went blank.
Solomon moved to her side. “The car was in the shop last week.”
Delgado took a tiny step back. “You’re Mrs. Blackwell’s bodyguard?”
Solomon offered a nod.
“And who are you?” the second officer asked Connor.
“Security,” Connor said.
“And the man at the gate?”
Gabi stepped in. “My husband is a very wealthy man. We can’t be too careful.”
“I find it interesting that you have a house full of security shortly after your own life was recently spared and another was taken. I also find that dots in a line eventually connect.”
“I don’t know what happened to that boy, Officer.”
“But you know something—”
Solomon stepped between the officer and Gabi. “This meeting is over, Officer. Connor will show you out.”
“We only want to talk to you, Mrs. Blackwell. No one is accusing you of anything.”
Was that what was happening? Suddenly the presence of the cops was anything but comfortable.
“Are you arresting anyone?” Solomon asked.
Delgado met Solomon’s gaze and turned to leave. “We’ll be in touch.”
Gabi waited until after the officers left before turning to Solomon. “What the hell was that all about?”
“I don’t know.”
She glared. “That man was right. My car blowing up . . . the missing boy who was last seen in this house . . . those odds are too good to ignore. They’re connected, aren’t they?”
“This is the first I’m hearing of the kid, Mrs. B.”
She remembered the young man’s smiling face as he wired one of the televisions, envisioned him flirting with the girls. “There were a lot of people in the house that day. They could be in danger.”
“We don’t know that.”
“We can’t rule it out. Holding back information might result in someone else getting hurt . . . or worse.” She twisted toward Andrew. “Where is Hunter?” It was the first time she’d asked.
“I don’t know.”
Well that’s convenient. She lifted the phone and dialed Hunter’s office.
Tiffany apologized, said he wasn’t there . . . asked about her well-being.
No, Tiffany didn’t know where Hunter was. He asked for her to clear his calendar for the rest of the week.
Gabi hung up and dialed his cell.
Voice mail picked up.
“I don’t know where you are, and wouldn’t care if the police hadn’t just left our house. I need answers, Hunter. If I don’t get them soon, I’m going to the police myself and telling them everything I know.”
No sooner than the space of time it took to hang up the phone, it was ringing again.
“It’s Neil.”
Gabi glanced at the hidden camera she knew Neil and his team monitored. “Where’s Hunter?”
“I can’t tell you that, Gabi. Going to the police could be suicide.”
“A boy is dead.”
She heard him sigh. “Tell me what you know about him. What exactly was he doing at the house?”
“He wired the televisions, connected the cables . . . stuff like that. I think he helped a few of the girls with hanging some of the higher Christmas lights.”
“Anything about him seem odd?”
“There was a massive crew that day. Nothing felt off.” She paused. “Except the tree delivery guys. They weren’t off so much as overly helpful.”
“Tree delivery?” Neil cussed under his breath. “I’m sending over a team.”
“You already have a team here,” she said in protest.
“A different team. No more talk about going to the police, Gabi. You have to trust me on this.”
“If someone else ends up dead—”
“We will find them. Put Solomon on the phone.”
Frustrated, she shoved the phone into Solomon’s hand and left the room.
Hunter pulled into his father’s drive in a Jeep he’d picked up from the dealer before noon. If anyone was following him, they would have targeted the Town Car he had one of the security guards jump in the back of. It was all very cloak-and-dagger, but he didn’t trust anyone.
Wearing jeans—something he did on such a rare occasion that he had to hunt for an unopened box that had been sent from the high-rise condo he recently slept in—Hunter glanced around the secluded home of his father.
Tucked into the far suburbs of the Santa Clarita Valley, his father’s property wasn’t gated or secure in any way.
No one cared to notice.
There was a pickup in the drive, one Hunter had bought his dad a few years back. Beside it, a tiny sports car five years past its prime.
He pulled the key out of the ignition and lifted the collar on his jacket. Hiding under sunglasses and a baseball cap, Hunter jogged up the steps to his father’s home and didn’t bother to knock.
Hunter knew for a fact that a maid showed up every week to clean the place. Gardeners took care of the yard, and if the maid found the cupboards bare, she ordered groceries that were delivered.
Hunter might not care to spend time with his father, but he made sure the man had the basics.
He shed his cap and sunglasses the moment he closed the door. He pushed past the familiar hall and up the few short steps of the split-level home.
Standing in front of the sliding glass door was Noah, his back to him.
“I was starting to wonder if you were coming.”
Hunter looked around the room. “Where’s Dad?”
Noah didn’t turn from his perch, simply nodded behind him. “In the den. Probably out cold.”
Hunter tossed his keys, hat, and glasses on the table. He set the briefcase he brought with him down and left it.
He paused . . . as he’d been trying to do regardless of how difficult it felt.
How had he and his brother gotten to this point? How could they be as different as they were? Wasn’t there a time when they enjoyed each other? Would have blackened the eye of the other guy just for saying the wrong thing to their sibling? High school . . . it all changed in those formative years, and there was no going back.
Hunter moved to the front window of the house and looked out. When he was confident no one had parked themselves outside the drive, he moved back into the dining area where his brother stood.
“I don’t have a lot of time,” Hunter told him.
Noah’s laugh started out slow, then grew. “You never do, brother.”
“This time it’s not about me.”
Noah turned then. When they were younger, looking at his identical twin was routine, now he found the image of an animated version of himself eerie. “Since when?”
Pause . . . patience.
“Why are you doing this?” If Hunter was ever going to get answers, it was now.
Noah looked down Hunter’s frame. “Wearing a wire, Hunter?”
Hunter shrugged off his jacket and shed his shirt with one smooth scoop. “Do I need to take off my pants?”
Noah lifted an eyebrow. “Because I could,” he said. “Because you stopped taking my calls.”
“I cut you off! Something he needed to do years ago.” Hunter flung his hand behind him to indicate their father.
“You think you’re so much better than everyone. But you never saw this coming, did you?”
Hunter sucked in a slow breath. “No, I didn’t.” He glanced at the briefcase on the kitchen table. “How much?”
Noah ran a hand down his face and over his chin as he took in the case.
“What changed your mind?”
“Does it matter? You have what you want. Name your price, Noah.”
Noah placed his hand on the briefcase and Hunter slapped his over his brother’s.
Their eyes caught and didn’t let go. “My conditions.”
Noah eased his hand away.
“You leave here, retrieve Hayden, and meet my pilot.”
Noah gripped the back of a dining chair. “And where are we going?”
“Someplace safe.”
A flicker of humanity passed over his brother’s face. Had Hunter not been watching, he would have missed it.
“Safe?”
Hunter’s next words were slower than a turtle marching across the desert sand. “Your son’s life has been threatened . . . all in an effort to get to me. You take this money and your son and you both disappear. I’ll contact you when it’s safe to move on with your life.”
“And if I don’t agree?”
“Then you take this, give it to Sheila . . . split it . . . burn it for all I care, but Hayden comes with me. Today.”
To say Noah was stunned would have been an understatement. His jaw dropped, his eyes were tiny specks of confusion.
“You’re willing to take my son?”
Hunter made sure he articulated every syllable of his next words. “Hayden is already mine. I’m a week away from taking permanent custody, and neither you, nor Sheila, will see one penny.” It was a bluff. But Hunter had to try.
A weak smile started on Noah’s lips. “Always impatient. I don’t know how you managed to get so far in business when you show everyone your cards.”
Hunter slammed his hand on the table, causing everything on it to jump.
“My wife’s car was blown up yesterday, Noah. She escaped with her life by less than a minute. Someone out there with bigger balls than yours is willing to take out your son because you told the world he’s mine. Either you leave with him, now, or I take him and keep him safe. Make your choice and make it now! I don’t have any more time to fuck with you. Fair warning, Noah. If Hayden comes with me, he’s mine. You’ll never see him again.”
Noah turned white.
Hunter looked at his watch. “I have a car coming in five minutes.” He swept the car keys across the table until Noah had to catch them or watch them fall to the floor. “I have a bodyguard and a private investigator watching your son. Both are ready to take him on my call. What’s it going to be, Daddy?”
Noise from behind him had Hunter turning around. “What’s it going to be, Noah?”
Sherman Blackwell stood, scruffy faced and more than a little worn around the edges as he fixed his eyes on the two of them. How much of the conversation he’d heard, Hunter couldn’t say . . . but from the look in the older man’s eyes, it was enough to understand the severity of the situation.
Noah grasped the briefcase and opened it. Inside were stacks of hundreds . . . it paid to have business associates who owned casinos, where cash could be removed and IOUs given.
Noah took two stacks of bills, shoved them in his pocket, and closed the case. He tapped his hands alongside it and said, “For Sheila. I’ll keep her with me until I hear from you. If I leave her here, there’s no telling what she’ll do.”
With the briefcase in one hand, the keys to the Jeep in another, Noah stood.
“Go to John Wayne Airport. I’ll call my people.”
“Who’s Neil?”
“Doesn’t matter. I’ll be in touch.”
Noah hesitated as he passed their father, and then disappeared behind the door.
Sherman crossed the room, opened the fridge, and pulled a beer he didn’t need from the box. “What’s this about a wife?”