Chapter Eight
Kat was glad Mike grabbed her arm to support her, or she was sure she’d have fainted. He eased her down on the couch, poured the rest of the liquor from the tiny bottle into her cup, and held it up to her.
“Drink,” he ordered. “Now.”
She swallowed it quickly, her eyes tearing as it burned her throat, but it chased away the jitters. “I want to know what your office said.”
Mark told everyone what Andy had pulled from the email and what the video had shown.
“So we know they’re all alive and unharmed. For the moment, anyway.”
“How did they look in the picture?” She wanted to know. “Could Andy see enough in the video?”
Mark nodded. “He said they looked dirty and tired but otherwise okay. And now that Andy’s in Pelley’s system and Post’s, he can monitor for the next video email. I think that’s the one where we’ll find out how much they want. But here’s a kicker for you.”
Mike frowned. “What?”
“Andy tried to backtrack the link to find out who sent it, but it’s anonymous and bounced all over the planet. He’s still working on it. But he then followed it forward to see everyplace it went. Guess who else got an email?”
“Who?”
“Rand Prescott. The guy whose house Eli was borrowing.”
They all looked at one another.
“I assume you told Andy to add Prescott to his list of people to dig into,” Mike said.
Mark nodded. “He said he’d call back in an hour. I just can’t figure out why Prescott would get the email, too, unless he has something to do with all this.”
“But why?” Faith broke in. “For what purpose? Surely he’s not behind something like this.”
Mark ran his fingers through his hair. “Right now we’re guessing more than anything. And Detective Wagner didn’t have much more to add to what we already knew about yesterday. The San Diego police didn’t even know the Wrights had anything to do with the explosion, or that they and Mari are missing.”
He was silent a moment, then asked, “What if the kidnappers know they’re beyond the reach of the federal government?”
Kat stared at him. “What do you mean by that?”
The two men exchanged a look.
A muscle twitched in Mike’s jaw. “It’s possible the hostages have been taken out of the country. Someplace where our government can’t reach them or get involved in the kidnapping.”
“You’re kidding.” She suddenly felt as if she couldn’t draw a full breath. “Someplace like where?”
“Okay,” Mike told her. “I have nothing to go on, so just call it a hunch. But this doesn’t feel like a domestic action.”
“I still don’t understand. Who would it be, then?”
Mike sat down next to her and took her hand. “Kitten, it’s entirely possible, with the border situation the way it is these days, that they’ve been taken by people from another country like Mexico and transported outside the United States. Even if Pelley or someone else calls in the FBI, at least in the past few years Uncle Sam has chosen not to be involved in situations like this. It’s usually a no-win situation for them.”
“Oh my God. You’re kidding, right?”
He shook his head. “Unfortunately, no. But that brings up even more issues. Like, if they were taken to Mexico, which is the most likely, who was the contact for the kidnappers? Because someone had to identify them as the mark and help set this up.”
“Dear Lord.” Kat twisted her hands together to keep them from shaking. “I sensed it, you know? That they had left the area. I couldn’t feel their presence, couldn‘t call up a picture. I just didn’t know why.”
“Let’s see what Andy comes up with,” Mark said in a quiet voice.
“I’d like to try something,” Kat told them. “I have an idea.”
“What is it?” Faith wanted to know. “Can I help?”
“In some incidents of remote viewing, the viewer doesn’t have the location to fix on but the person. I have a picture of Mari.” She looked at Mike. “If you can find a picture of the Wrights on your laptop, any of you, and print it out, I can spread the pictures out on the table, focus on them, and see if I can get an image of where they are.”
“Will that work?” Mike asked.
“I don’t know, but I want to try.”
“All right, let’s get the picture, then we’ll hit the FBI. Kat, you sure you’re okay doing this? You still seem a little shaky.”
She nibbled on her bottom lip. “I want to try anything, but I have to tell you something. My . . . gift has been a little on the fritz lately. I haven’t always been able to count on its reliability. Which is typically only ninety percent at best, and lately, as low as eighty sometimes.”
“Is there some specific reason?” He turned her to face him, his hands caressing his arms. Apparently he didn’t care whether the Hallorans were aware of the changing nature of their relationship. “Is that why you went to see Faith’s aunt?” Kat nodded. “She gave me some meditation exercises to do, which have helped a little.”
“I don’t suppose whatever’s interfering with your gift has anything to do with the calls you keep erasing from your cell phone, would it?”
“It’s nothing,” she insisted. “But—”
“But it’s enough to throw you out of kilter. Okay. Let me boot up the laptop and get those pictures sent. I can’t believe we stupidly we left our little portable printer behind, but there’s a business center on the second floor here. I can print them out there. Mark, while I’m downstairs, you can try Pelley one more time. Then we’ll decide whether or not to call our federal friend.”
“Got it covered.”
It took scant minutes for Mike to Google the Wrights and get exactly what he wanted. He saved it to a flash drive and closed his laptop.
“I want to go with you,” Kat said, afraid to be away from him now for even a moment. Brent had left more messages, and they gave her a very unsettled feeling. She knew she shouldn’t wait to tell Mike, but she wanted to get this taken care of first.
“Kitten, you’ll be perfectly safe right here with Mark and Faith. And you’ll have some time to compose yourself.”
“Please,” she pleaded. “Just . . . take me with you.”
He studied her face carefully. Whatever he saw made him nod his head. “Okay.” He bent to brush a kiss against her cheek and whisper in her ear, “But later we will discuss whatever this problem is that’s getting in the way of your concentration. Make no mistake.”
As they passed Mark on the way out of the room, he was punching buttons on his cell and mouthing, “Calling Pelley now.”
Rip paced back and forth, checking his cell phone every few minutes. He had reached the conclusion the process was flawed and would lend suspicion rather than deflect it. But Nando wouldn’t listen to him, and now the die was cast. But he knew why Nando had done it.
When the phone rang in his hand, he was so startled he almost dropped it. He looked at the screen and saw the text message scrolling across: Go to computer, check next message.
He had his laptop open and was logged in. Sure enough, the email was there. He clicked on the video icon attached to it, and the snippet of video began to play at once. At the sight of the picture, nausea rose in his throat. The long cut on Sydney’s face and the bruise on Mari Culhane’s temple were signs of exactly what he’d feared. The men who worked for Nando were addicted to cruelty the way some men were hooked on drugs. He hoped this was the worst that would happen.
At the end of the video was a shot of the message: Ten million dollars. You will be contacted with further instructions.
Ten million dollars. Would that even be possible in a short period of time? Whatever; it would have to be done. There were sources he could tap into to get this done. He just hoped he could be quick enough about it.
Rip collapsed into an armchair, feeling sweat pop out on his forehead. He’d have to call the others. He was sure they’d gotten the same message, and contact would be expected. Right now he just wanted to get the money together and reassure himself that everyone would be returned safely. Alive.
And that he would be rid of Nando forever.
The limo carrying Brent Fontaine pulled up under the covered entrance to the hotel, and the driver jumped out to open the door for him. One of the perks of having unlimited financial resources, Brent mused, was not having to deal with the hassle of cabs or ride in vehicles contaminated by the general public. He nodded at the uniformed men who opened the double glass doors into the lobby for him, his driver hurrying behind him, carrying his small suitcase and his laptop.
He could have stayed in other, more opulent places, but he liked the quiet elegance of this particular hotel and the fact that it had an entire floor of suites. The service was excellent, and it had all the electronic hookups he needed to conduct his business.
Tomorrow he would meet with one of the fund’s biggest clients, sucking another million dollars out of him to invest. He was irritated to discover he’d left the copies of the proposals sitting on his desk in his office. His secretary could fax them to him, but then they’d look like what they were. Bad copies. With this client everything had to be top of the line. Then he remembered this place had an entire floor equipped with anything the business traveler might need. He’d call his office, have his secretary email him the color pdf file, and run it off on the business center’s high-quality printer. Then he could get through tomorrow’s meetings.
As he waited at the desk to check in, he pulled out his cell phone and punched her speed-dial number one more time. Voice mail. As usual.
Damn it! Damn it! Damn it!
Tonight he had a date with a bottle of fifty-year-old single-malt Scotch. Then tomorrow, after he completed his business, he’d head back to Florida and begin his hunt for Katherine Culhane. As each hour passed without a response to his calls or information on her whereabouts, his anger grew incrementally.
When he got his hands on that bitch, he’d show her just who was in control and who called the shots. She’d never walk out on anyone like that again.
“Ten million dollars?” Anthony Delaware raised his eyebrows as he read the latest email, then looked at Ron Pelley. He had returned to the offices of Wright International just as the techs he’d asked for finished setting up their equipment on Pelley’s cell phone, his desktop computer, and his laptop, barely in time to catch the latest messages. “Can you get that much together? Is Wright International worth that kind of money?”
“He doesn’t flaunt it,” Pelley told him, “but he’s worth close to fifty million. Not all of it liquid, of course. And the company, ten times that.”
“Try sending an email back to them. Hit reply and type a message, saying you’ll need time to get the money together.”
“But—”
“Just do it, for God’s sake.”
Pelley hit the Reply key, typed the message, and hit Send. Immediately they got a bounce-back message saying the message was undeliverable.
“Damn,” Delaware swore. “They’ve blocked you so all the messages can only go one way.”
Pelley was rolling a pen back and forth on his desk, not looking at the agent. “So now what?”
“You can access the company funds, right?”
Pelley flipped the pen around and began doodling on the small memo pad, avoiding Delaware’s eyes. “I have the authority to tap into different company accounts and pull out money, if necessary. However, that kind of transaction is usually authorized by Eli himself.”
“But you can do it if you have to, right?” the agent pushed. “Otherwise they wouldn’t have targeted you to provide the ransom.”
“Yeah, I can do it.” Pelley still didn’t look up from his desk.
Delaware felt something skitter across his backbone, a funny sensation that Pelley was hiding something from him.
“Is there something else you’d like to tell me, Mr. Pelley? You seem a little . . . hesitant about something. If you’ve left out anything we need to know, now would be a good time to tell me.”
Pelley tossed the pen down onto the desk. “Okay. I wasn’t sure how to tell you this, or what you’d think. Two other people got the same email that I did: Ryan Post, Sydney Wright’s brother, and Rand Prescott. Prescott’s a partner with Eli in some of his major business deals, and it’s his house the Wrights were supposed to be staying in.”
Delaware gritted his teeth but held onto his composure. It never did any good to lose your temper in situations like this, but he wanted to reach across the desk and throttle the man. Who knew how much time they’d lost by not focusing on these other men, too.
“Why am I just hearing about this now?” he demanded. “And why haven’t either of them called the FBI?”
“We contacted each other when the first emails came in, discussed it, and decided it would be more logical for me to be the one to contact you. And better if you only dealt with one person.”
“I see.” The agent walked over to the window and looked down at the cars speeding by below. “I’m not sure that’s such a good decision. This could change the entire picture. What if the kidnappers decide to deal with the brother next? Or Prescott? Leaving us out of the loop means the kidnappers could make their next move, and we’d be unprepared to handle it.”
He heard Pelley’s chair scrape as it was pushed back from the desk. “I don’t see how. What difference does it make, anyway?”
“It brings other people into play, gives the kidnappers another source of communication that isn’t monitored. And it means they may not trust you to get the full amount of money for them that they’re demanding. They’re hedging their bets.” He studied the other man. “We need to get trap and trace setups up at their places, too, on their phones and computers.”
“Is that necessary?” Pelley looked up at him. “We hoped that you’d agree to deal just with me.”
“Not if the kidnappers decide to focus on one of the others. Listen, Pelley.” He didn’t feel the need to use “Mister” any longer. The man was an idiot and a sneak. “In a case like this, everything is important. Everything. Assuming you really want to get the hostages back.”
“Of course I do,” Pelley exploded. “What kind of comment is that?”
“A very natural one, considering the circumstances. What if whoever this is decides to contact just one of you next time? Which one will it be? Why? And will he contact the others and let you know what’s happening?”
“I’ll do anything to resolve this,” Pelley snapped. “Got it?”
“Fine. Then you’ll have to give me their locations right now, so I can get crews over there right away.” He pulled out his cell. “One good thing: it gives us three times the opportunity to figure out who these people are and where these messages are coming from.”
Pelley scribbled the information on a sheet of paper and handed it to Delaware. “What about the people from the Phoenix Agency? What happens with them? How do you plan to keep them from sticking their noses into this? Maybe screwing everything up?”
Again Delaware kept himself under control, aware that there were some real concerns about the Phoenix involvement, but he wasn’t about to let Pelley know how he felt. The last thing they needed right now was a civilian mercenary agency butting into this, especially people like Phoenix who answered only to themselves. And, unfortunately, were damn good at what they did. The worst part of it was, in the end they might be the only ones who could get results.
“Like I said before,” he answered, “let’s wait and see if they call again.”
“And if they don’t? You can’t just assume they’ll leave us alone. They have a personal interest in this.”
Delaware’s control frayed. “I think you can count on me to do my job, Pelley. You just take care of your own business. And be very sure you don’t keep anything else from me.”
Seething and trying to get himself under control, he stepped into the outer area and called his office, asking for his second-in-command. “How are you guys coming with getting me a file on Pelley? Good. The sooner the better. You can add two more names to it. Ryan Post and Rand Prescott. It seems they got the same emails. What? Yes, the jackass thought it wasn’t important to let me know about that. I want everything you can get on them. Their history, their financials, if they have a mole on their butts. Here are the locations Pelley gave me for them.” He read off the information. “I want an agent sitting with each one and taps on phones and computers. Get a warrant signed ASAP.” He listened for a moment. “Right. I want to know every single move they make from here on in. Good. Call me back as soon as you have it set up.”
He shoved his phone back into its holster on his belt. Damn it to hell anyway. Something definitely smelled about this whole setup, but he just couldn’t put his finger on it.
Ron Pelley controlled himself with superhuman effort. This had been such a stupid idea, to involve all three of them, and he’d been very vocal in expressing his opinion to everyone. He was the logical person to receive the ransom request. He was the logical person to be the contact. He’d argued and argued about letting the feds know all three had been contacted, but he’d been overridden. Now, because of this stupidity, the FBI would be crawling all over not one but three places, tripping over their own feet and probably endangering everyone and everything in the process.
He couldn’t believe how badly he wanted a drink. What a mess this whole situation was. Anthony Delaware had to speak to him twice before he was even aware of the words.
“Excuse me?” He looked up at the agent.
“I asked you if you’d figured out yet where you were going to get the money from. And if necessary, if you could get your hands on Eli Wright’s assets to pay the ransom.”
“I’d need the account numbers and locations,” he said. “I don’t get involved in his personal finances.”
“How will you justify pulling that much money out of Wright International? Don’t you have officers and stockholders that you’re accountable to?” Delaware persisted.
Pelley nodded. “Yes, but I certainly don’t have time to get in touch with all of them. Right now I just want to pull the funds out. Eli can replace them when we get him back. The problem is, very little is liquid. We have to convert a lot of things, and I’ve already started that process.”
With a lot of flak from the banks and the accountants. They’d demanded an explanation, and he couldn’t give it to them. What a freaking mess this all was.
“If these are experienced kidnappers—and I have a feeling they are—they’ll know that and allow for the time.” Delaware grunted his displeasure. “Let’s just hope they don’t decide to do any more damage to their hostages while they’re waiting.”
Pelley felt the sick feeling rise in him again. He was pacing the floor when his cell phone rang. For a moment he just looked at the offending instrument, lying on his desk, almost afraid to find out who was on the other end.
“Well?” Delaware asked. “Aren’t you going to answer it? What if it’s the kidnappers?”
Reluctantly Pelley snatched the phone up, flipped it open, and looked at the caller ID. He recognized the number as one written on the back of the Phoenix Agency card. It was almost as if his question to the FBI agent had conjured them up.
Shit. No, double shit.
Swallowing a sigh, he pushed Talk.
“This is Pelley.”
“Mark Halloran, here. I was just wondering if you’d received any more information on where the Wrights and Mari Culhane have disappeared to.”
Pelley held the phone to his chest, looked at Delaware, and mouthed the words Mark Halloran from Phoenix.
Delaware held out his hand. “I’ll talk to him.”
“Pelley?” Mark repeated impatiently. “You there?”
He heard the shuffling sound of the phone being handed to someone else, then a strange voice came on.
“Who am I speaking to?”
Mark held the phone out, stared at it, then put it back to his ear. What the hell? “Who am I speaking to?”
“This is Anthony Delaware, Special Agent in Charge of the San Antonio, Texas FBI office. Want to tell me who you are?”
Mark didn’t know whether to be pleased or angry. So Pelley had called in the feds. Nice of him to let them know.
“Mark Halloran of the Phoenix Agency. I’m going to assume Ron Pelley has told you of our interest in this case and why.”
“Yes. You have a friend whose sister was traveling with the Wrights.” Delaware paused. “I’m guessing your friend still hasn’t heard from her sister?”
“That’s correct.” Mark ground his teeth with impatience. “We’re obviously concerned. I’ve tried to get information from Ron Pelley, but he doesn’t seem to be very forthcoming.”’
“There’s a good reason for that.” Another pause. “I’ll be frank with you, Mr. Halloran. We have a . . . situation here.”
“A situation,” Mark repeated. “Care to tell me exactly what kind?”
“First I need your assurance that you won’t interfere with anything that’s going on. The safety of the people involved is the most important thing.”
“Goddamn it!” Mark exploded. “Are you going to tell me what the hell this is about, or do I have to go over your head and rattle some cages?”
The pause this time was even longer, and Mark could hear hushed conversation in the room.
“All right.” Delaware was back. “Fine. In a nutshell, the Wrights and Miss Culhane have been kidnapped.”
“Kidnapped.” Mark repeated the word softly. So there was his confirmation. Bloody hell. “Do you even know if the hostages are still alive?”
“We’ve had proof of life and now a ransom demand. But we need to handle this as delicately as possible. Which means you backing off and leaving it in the hands of the FBI.”
“No offense, Agent Delaware,” Mark spat, “but I think we’ve had as much experience in this as you have. This proof of life. Does it show them unharmed? And is there any sign of where they’re being held?”
“They seem to be okay right now.” Mark didn’t like Delaware’s cautious tone. “We don’t know as yet where they’re being held but we’re working on it.”
“Working on it,” Mark repeated. “Well, isn’t that just dandy. Can you email me the notes Pelley received?”
“I don’t think that would be a good idea. You need to let us work this from our end. I promise we’ll keep you in the loop.” He lowered his voice. “I can take this upstairs just as well as you can,” he warned. “My bosses don’t like outside interference.”
“Except when they can’t get the job done themselves.” Mark worked to keep the hostility out of his voice.
“Mr. Pelley tells me he has your phone numbers. I promise to keep you up-to-date.”
“How much are they asking for?” Mark demanded.
“Ten million dollars.”
“Are you fucking kidding me? That’s a hell of a lot of money. Can Pelley get his hands on it?”
“He says he can, but he’ll need a little time.”
He’d better or I’ll pulverize the little shit.
“A little time. Those people may not have a little time. Do you have a deadline yet?”
“No, but we should hear from them before long with that information. Mr. Halloran, I need to get off the telephone now. I promise we’ll keep you informed.”
Mark realized he was listening to dead air.
“Hell and damnation.” He pressed the speed-dial button for Andy. “I need those emails now. No, make that five minutes ago.”
“The business floor setup is for maximum privacy,” Mike told Kat as they left the elevator. “Instead of one large room for everyone to crowd into, they have several small rooms, each one identically outfitted. That’s why so many high-profile business people use this place. It caters to what they need.”
“I’ll bet it’s pretty pricey,” she commented.
“But worth the money. I got a key card for one of the rooms when we checked in, just in case. I never know when I might need their equipment.” He slid the key card into the slot, waited for the light to turn green, and pushed open the door, entering the room a few steps ahead of Kat.
Neither of them had noticed the man who exited one of the other elevators, headed down the hall, and stopped, his face a mask of shock and rage. They didn’t hear his soft footsteps on the rug, either. In fact, neither of them was aware of his presence, as focused on their errand as they were, until Kat felt a fist grab her hair and yank her backward. The sharp pain brought tears to her eyes, and a scream burst from her mouth.
“Mike!” She backpedaled as the man dragged her toward him. “Mike, help.”
“I’ve got you now, you little bitch.” The man’s voice had a vicious—and familiar—sound to it. “You can’t imagine how sorry you’re going to be, running out the way you did and then avoiding me.”
At the sound of Kat’s cry, Mike spun on his heels. He was momentarily stunned at the sight of the big man practically yanking Kat’s hair out of her head, the fury in his eyes, and the fear in Kat’s. Then he shifted into automatic, moving without even thinking, his reflexes taking over. One leg flew up, catching the man at a painful spot in the elbow, then his hand drove into the man’s throat.
Immobilized with pain, Brent Fontaine released his grip on Kat, dropped his briefcase, and backed up to the wall, gagging.
“Who the hell are you?” His voice sounded like it was scraping over raw concrete.
Mike had immediately put Kat behind him and now stood nose-to-nose with Fontaine. She knew his relaxed attitude belied the tense readiness of his body.
“The bigger question,” Mike said, “is who the hell are you?”
“Why don’t you ask that whore behind you?” He was struggling to get out every word, his hands still massaging his throat.
Mike took two steps closer and closed his big fist on Fontaine’s throat, brushing his hands aside as if they were wisps of cloth. “You watch your mouth if you want to keep breathing. Kat, who is this animal? Do you know him?”
“His name is Brent Fontaine.” Kat forced the words out, her hands rubbing the spot on her head where her hair had been yanked.
“You know him?”
Kat was afraid for a moment she would faint. Then she almost wished she would. She clenched her trembling hands into fists and shoved them in the pocket of her slacks. Finally, after three tries, she managed to speak.
“Unfortunately, yes.” She cleared her throat, then said again, louder, “Yes. I know him.”
“Is he the guy leaving you all those messages that upset you so much? The ones you didn’t want to tell me about?”
“Of course she didn’t tell you,” Fontaine croaked.
Without taking his eyes off Fontaine, Mike said, “Call Mark and get him down here right now. Take my phone and press three. That connects directly to him.”
Her hands were shaking so badly it took her two tries to get the phone out and press the button. Then all she could say was, “Mark? We’re in Room Four on the business floor. Come quickly.”
Fontaine was still struggling against Mike’s hold. “She certainly ran fast enough from my bed to yours, the slut,” he rasped. “Whoever the hell you are, you got yourself a bad bargain.”
Mike shifted his arm so his forearm lay firmly across the man’s throat, the thumb and forefinger of the other hand pinching hard on a pressure point where the shoulder and neck joined. “If I were you I would just shut the fuck up before someone crushed my vocal cords.”
Fontaine’s face twisted in pain and rage. As he tried to croak out a response, a knock sounded on the door.
“Me,” Mark called from the hall.
Kat hurried to let him in.
Mark entered, gun in hand, Faith right behind him. His eyes quickly assessing the situation, Mark positioned himself on the other side of Fontaine while Faith put her arm around Kat and drew her away from the men.
“This jackass giving you a problem?” Mark asked his partner in a deceptively low voice.
“Not me. Kat.”
“His name is Brent Fontaine,” Kat finally got the words out, both terrified and humiliated by the whole situation. She’d hoped to be able to tell this to Mike in the privacy of their room, not blurt it out this way in front of Mark and Faith. “I-I . . . dated him for a while.”
She saw Brent open his mouth to try to comment, but Mike pressed more firmly against the man’s windpipe. She was grateful for Faith’s arm around her and the woman’s obvious support.
“Can you tell us about it?” she asked Kat in a soft voice.
Kat swallowed hard, tightening her fists in her pockets even more. God, how did she get herself into things like this? “Mike, I . . .”
“It’s okay, Kat.” Mike’s voice was quiet, in contrast to the obvious anger tightening his body. “It’s my fault, too. Just get it out so we can decide what to do with this sack of shit.”
“I met him at a party in Tampa after Mike and I . . . after we . . . that is . . . He was very charming and persistent. I . . . went out with him for a while, trying to forget . . .” She stopped.
“Don’t worry about me, kitten,” Mike said. “I know right where you were at. Go on.”
“But after a while, I felt suffocated. He insisted I stop seeing my friends, spend all my free time with him. We went places he chose, did things he wanted to do.” She dropped her head. “Yes, I slept with him, and I’m not very proud of it. I was just, you know, vulnerable.”
Faith gave her an encouraging squeeze.
“Then I woke up one morning and discovered I was letting him destroy me. I wrote a note telling him not to call me anymore, left his condo, went home, and took a shower that lasted until the hot water ran out.” She sighed. “I was supposed to meet him, and leaving him with his bare face hanging out in front of his friends ignited his short fuse. I guess he just doesn’t want to take no for an answer. Mike, I’m so sorry. So, so sorry.”
“Nothing to be sorry about,” he told her. “The whole thing was my mess, not yours.”
“Nobody walks out on me,” Fontaine croaked. “I swore I’d make her pay, and I intend to. You people don’t know what you’re involved with here.”
Mike pressed harder on Fontaine’s windpipe. “What part of ‘shut up’ don’t you understand? Mark, why don’t you call our friend Detective Wagner and tell him we have some trash for him to take out.”
“Just a minute here,” Fontaine gargled. “Do you know who you’re dealing with?”
“Yeah,” Mike snarled. “A very undesirable person.”
Katherine was forcing herself to take deep breaths to steady herself, but she couldn’t seem to stop her body from trembling. “Brent, I have to know. Did you follow me here?”
“Follow you?” He was having a hard time getting the words out with Mike’s arm still threatening to crush his windpipe. “Don’t flatter yourself. But Fate delivered you to me just as it was meant to be. You should have answered my phone calls.”
“That’s it.” Mike pressed his arm harder, and Fontaine’s face turned purple.
“Mike.” Kat broke away from Faith and tugged at Mike’s arm. “Stop. He’s not worth it.”
“Wagner’s on the way,” Mark said. “He’s coming himself. He asked me if we thought this asshole is involved in our other situation.”
Kat watched Brent’s face fade from purple to pasty white at the announcement that the police were coming.
“Wait a minute. Just wait a minute.” As Mike loosened his arm slightly, Fontaine dragged air into his lungs. He was still pinned to the wall, but he was able to breathe better. “When the police get here, you’ll be sorry you called them. This is between Katherine and me. Who the hell are you people, anyway? I’ll sue you for every dime you’ve got.”
“Oh, I don’t think so,” Mark drawled. “Who we are is people you don’t want to tangle with.” He grabbed a sheet of plain paper from one of the printers and wrote in big letters Out of Order. Tearing a strip off the Scotch tape dispenser on the counter, he opened the door and attached the sign to the outside. “Okay, Mike. Sit him down in that chair over there. And you, Fontaine, don’t move if you want to live another minute.”
Brent was deposited in the chair, still babbling, and pushed into a corner, Mark standing next to him. Mike grabbed Kat and pulled her close to him, wrapping his arms tightly around her. His lips brushed her hair, and he made soothing noises to her.
“It’s all right, kitten. It’s all taken care of.”
She still couldn’t stop trembling. “Mike, I’m so ashamed and embarrassed . . .”
“Hey, hey, hey.” He pulled his head back and brushed his lips against her. “If I hadn’t taken off the way I did, none of this would have happened. Blame me but not yourself. Okay?”
“Do you really think he has anything to do with . . . what’s happening?”
“I don’t know who you men think you are,” Fontaine croaked from the corner, “but you’re going to be sorry you ever met me.”
Kat turned from the cradle of Mike’s arms and looked at him. “No sorrier than I am at having met you,” she told him.
“I think we already told you to shut up,” Mark said in a deceptively casual voice. “You should take that advice. Now sit there and don’t move.”
Kat was glad that Mike had subdued Brent to the point where he could do little else. Otherwise he would have been charging them like a raging bull. This was not a man who took anything like this lightly. His pride and his ego were more important to him than anything. She’d discovered that much too late.
The knock on the door startled all of them. Mark pulled his gun from the small of his back and held it at his side as he called, “Who’s there?”
“Detective Wagner. Someone in there call for trash pickup?”
Brent Fontaine’s eyes had bugged out at the sight of the gun. As soon as Wagner was inside the room, he said, “Are you from the police? Arrest these men. They attacked me.”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Don’t worry. We’ll sort it out.” He looked at Mark. “So what’s the deal here?”
“I think I can help you there.” As concisely as possible, Mike explained the situation, never taking his arms from around Kat.
“A stalker, huh?” Wagner gave Fontaine a nasty look. “My wife had a stalker once. I have a very special place in hell for men like that.” He looked at Mark again. “You think he has anything to do with the kidnapping?”
“Kidnapping!” Fontaine tried to push himself up from the chair. Katherine saw his face turn pale. “Now just a damn minute here. I don’t know anything about a kidnapping. I just wanted to teach this bitch a lesson.”
“He could have done something like this as payback,” Mike suggested. “I’m willing to bet he has the resources to do it.”
Fontaine made another effort to rise, but Mark pushed him back in the chair. “I might agree with you on that.”
“I don’t know anything about a damn kidnapping,” Fontaine squeaked. “I want my rights here.” He glared at Wagner. “I could have your badge for this.”
Wagner stared at him a moment, then pulled open the door and waved in a uniform cop who’d been waiting. He pointed to Fontaine. “Cuff that man and take him out to the car. If he gives you any lip, stuff your handkerchief in his mouth. Take him down the back way to where the car’s parked.”
After a few frantic minutes, a cursing Brent Fontaine was shackled and removed, his threats still echoing in the hallway as the two men moved toward the rear elevator.
“Now.” Wagner looked at each of them in turn. “Let’s figure out if this guy’s vindictiveness is strong enough for him to pull off the kidnapping for revenge.”
“I don’t think he’d do that,” Kat said hurriedly. “Brent would be more about one-on-one revenge.” She rubbed her head where he’d grabbed her hair. “He likes to inflict pain very personally.”
She avoided the questioning look in Mike’s eyes, knowing he’d want every detail from her later. A conversation she wasn’t looking forward to. But it was finally out in the open, a burden that had lifted considerably.
“It won’t hurt to see what we can get out of him, anyway.” Wagner opened the door. “I’ll call you later and give you an update. Miss Culhane, do you want to file a complaint against him?”
“Yes, she does,” Mike answered for her.
“Mike and I will discuss it, Detective.”
“Okay. I can hold him for forty-eight hours, anyway. Make him uncomfortable enough so he’ll think twice about pulling the same stunt again.”
“Now,” Mike said, when Wagner was gone, “let’s get that picture printed out. Kat, you think you can be calm enough to do this?”
“I have to try. With Brent out of the way I won’t have the worry about him interfering with my thoughts.”
“Okay, then. Let’s do it.”