Authors: Penny McCall
When they got there, Daniel locked the door behind them and jammed a chair under the knob. “Won’t hold them long,” he said, hoping like hell they were in the right place, because if they weren’t he’d just signed their death sentence.
“Well?” Vivi said, standing by the middle of three doors behind the massive desk that dominated the room.
Daniel hunched his shoulders, disgusted with himself for feeling relieved because the
psychic
wasn’t second-guessing his decisions. But sure enough, when he pulled open the door marked EXIT it felt like they were standing at the end of a wind tunnel. They could already hear the sound of the helicopter, and when they’d navigated the flight of concrete stairs, they found it waiting, blades rotating, ready to take off.
Daniel went across the roof, half hunched over. He checked to make sure Vivi was behind him, then pulled open the side door of the helicopter.
Cassandra Shaw Scott Hanson Martindale Winston Hobbs looked out at him. “Come right in,” she shouted over the whine of the blades. “I’ll be happy to take you anywhere you’d like.” Her gaze shifted to Vivi. “But not her.”
“WE HAVE TO MAKE THE CALL.”
“No.”
The elevator dinged, the doors opened, the first of seven lights on the panel went out.
“This thing’s going south, Hatch.”
“And who’s fault might that be, now?” Hatch said, his broad Boston accent mixed with a trace of Ireland in the phrasing, the combination marking him as a Southie.
“It’s nobody’s fault,” Flip said. He and Hatch had grown up side by side in South Boston, considered and rejected all forms of legitimate employment, and gone the easy route—which wasn’t so easy at the moment. In fact, it could get downright ugly.
“It’s our fault,” Hatch corrected Flip. “That’ll be how it shakes out.”
The elevator went through its ding/open doors/light out routine again. Flip jammed his hands on his hips and huffed out a breath, tapping one foot impatiently.
“Asshole,” Hatch said. “We’re not going to make it to the roof before Pierce does. If he wangles a ride on that bird, it’s all over for us.”
“Wangles?”
Hatch repeated his character-assessing commentary without losing his train of thought. “If You Know Who finds out about this before we report it, we’ll be nothing more than a couple of cheap headstones and fond tears in our mothers’ eyes.”
“The only thing my old lady ever cried over was an empty bottle,” Flip griped.
“I’ll take that as a yes,” Hatch said. He pulled out his cell phone, waited until the elevator went through its bump-and-grind routine and his bodily orifices unlocked, then dialed.
“Hello.” The voice was female and pleasant. Hatch knew it was only a come-on, like a worm on a hook. And he had no choice but to bite.
“I need to talk to—”
“I’ll put you right through.”
Best to get it over with, he thought, barely waiting for the next voice to come on the line before he launched into a rundown of the night’s events. The debacle at the bachelor auction was met with “botched,” the hide-and-seek game in the parking lot termed “incompetent,” and the fact that they were seconds from a rooftop helicopter of indeterminate origin was met with a long, stony silence that had Hatch thinking of frostbite. Or being shot in the head and stuffed into a walk-in freezer.
The elevator hit the top floor, finally. The doors opened on an expansive office space, beautifully appointed, sparsely lighted, completely devoid of human life. Pierce and the woman he was with were nowhere in sight, but Hatch knew from the slight vibration buzzing through his feet that the helicopter was still on the roof.
He knew by the words coming through the phone that they weren’t going to see it firsthand.
“There’s no telling who owns that helicopter,” the boss said in the same kind of broadly accented, Irish-shadowed voice, “but it’ll be one of them rich, better-than-thou Beacon Hill snobs.”
Hatch decided that was obvious—and best kept to himself. The fact that it would take a crowbar to pry his jaw open could only be a benefit.
“Back off” was the terse instruction. “And Hatch?”
“Um-hmmm,” he managed to force out.
“Fuck up again and it’ll be the last time.”
Chapter 4
DANIEL SHOUTED SOMETHING TO THE SECOND PERSON
in the helicopter, keeping one eye on the stairway to the office door.
Vivi didn’t bother with the office. There was no need, for one thing, and she was busy staring back at Cassandra Hobbs for the other. It was childish, but Vivi refused to be intimidated. Cassandra might have the power to leave her stranded on the roof like a shooting gallery duck, but at least she looked away first. The fact that she crossed her arms and huffed her way into a sulk made it even more childishly amusing. Too bad it only lasted until the other passenger touched Cassandra’s arm and said something along the lines of letting Vivi into the helicopter.
Vivi deduced that because Daniel wrapped his hands around her waist and boosted her up and in, following close behind so she had no choice but to scoot into the other seat. She picked up the headphones lying there before she sat down, slipping them over her ears and taking stock of the woman in the seat across from her—clearly Cassandra’s daughter, in looks if not in temperament. Same fine-boned features, same slender build, completely different attitude. The younger woman watched her with a long, level gaze that was less bug-under-glass and more wait-and-see.
“Alex Scott,” she said once they’d had a chance to size each other up. “Your former hostage is my mother.”
Vivi took the hand she offered, the handshake as firm and no-nonsense as Alex’s demeanor. It was nice that she wasn’t automatically resenting Vivi for her mother’s sake, but she wasn’t accepting her either. Vivi could respect that. And she could be just as big a person. “I’m sorry you had to be handcuffed,” she said to Cassandra. “I just couldn’t think of any other way to—”
“Kidnap this poor man?”
“Save his life.”
Cassandra looked out the window, making a big show of studying the empty rooftop. “From whom?”
“The two guys with guns who were chasing us,” Daniel said, then instructed the pilot to lift off.
“Not so fast,” Alex countermanded. “If there are men with guns—”
“They’re gone.” Vivi’s comment netted her a warning look from Daniel. Like that was going to keep her quiet. She opened her mouth. He gave her another look and she had second thoughts that went something along the lines of
best to let him run the show
.
For the moment
.
“I don’t know if they’re gone, but I’m pretty sure we’re out of danger,” he said, switching his attention back to Alex and notching his expression down to pleasant—or as close as he could get. “Shooting me would get some press and the attention of the FBI. Shooting down a helicopter that’s almost surely carrying someone wealthy and well connected would be monumental stupidity. Aside from the FBI, the FAA, and the press, there’s no telling who else would decide to get involved.”
Alex mulled that over for a moment, calm and deliberate, before she instructed the pilot to lift off. Whether it was her own judgment or Daniel’s she was bowing to, she’d be just the kind of woman who would appeal to a man like him. Vivi didn’t let herself wonder why it set her teeth on edge. “Weren’t you bidding on him at the auction?” she asked Alex.
“Only to save him from the man-eaters in there. We haven’t known each other for long, but I like to think we’re friends.”
Daniel returned Alex’s smile. “Any more than that, and I wouldn’t have to wonder who’s trying to kill me,” he said. “I didn’t know you and Tag were in town. You shouldn’t be.”
“Try telling him that,” Alex said, then gave Vivi a bare-bones explanation. “Tag was an FBI agent. We met on a case. Daniel is prosecuting it.”
“Not if my witnesses don’t make it to the stand,” he said. “The two of you should get out of Boston. Especially with what happened tonight.”
Alex leaned forward and wrapped her hand around his wrist. “You think Anthony Sappresi is behind this?”
“No. Sappresi’s a lot of things, but he’s not a fool. Killing me would just get him a new prosecutor. Taking out the witnesses, that would destroy my case.”
“I won’t let someone like Sappresi scare me.”
“Don’t be scared, be cautious.”
Alex sat back, her expression mulish. She didn’t look like she was inclined to take his advice. Vivi had no choice. She’d stopped breathing at the mention of Tony Sappresi’s name, to the point where she was seeing black spots. Thank God nobody was paying attention to her at the moment, was all she could think, especially Daniel.
“If Tony the Sap would have an FBI agent killed,” he was saying to Alex, “a witness is small change.”
“Tag isn’t worried, although I wouldn’t have had to go to the auction if I’d stayed in Africa.”
Her smile seemed to take Daniel off guard, enough that he relaxed back into his seat and went with the change of subject. “You’re still hoping she’ll ditch Tag and marry someone normal?” he said to Cassandra.
“You’re still single, I believe.”
“Sure, but it takes a gun to get him out on a date,” Alex said.
“Only if it’s a lunatic who claims to be abducting me for my own good.”
Alex popped up a brow. “You appear to be having a lot of fun for someone who’s been abducted at gunpoint by a lunatic.”
Daniel crossed his arms, refusing to dignify that with a denial. Not that it would be a very convincing denial. He
was
having fun. It’d been a long time since he’d felt so . . . alive. The excitement of being in the field again, that’s all it was. Nothing to do with the woman in the seat beside him, he assured himself, resisting a sidelong glance in her direction.
“I know how you dislike these things,” Cassandra said, waiting politely for him to focus on her again. “I was so grateful you agreed to participate. I didn’t want you to have an unpleasant experience, so I suggested Alex bid on you.”
“He already had it arranged,” Vivi said. “The redhead.”
“I didn’t realize you knew Patrice Hanlon,” Alex said.
Cassandra sniffed and muttered something that sounded like, “New money,” but no one was paying attention to her.
“She was involved with my last case as an agent,” Daniel said. A case that had caused her considerable personal grief since it had been her brother who’d ended up with a life term in prison.
She hadn’t held it against him, though. Over the years, Patrice had come to be not just a friend, but a valuable resource on the Irish mob, her family having once been prominently involved. The fact that she wanted more than friendship wasn’t lost on Daniel. But he’d managed to pretend it was.
The conversation had hit a lull, which was fine with him, except for the way Alex was studying Vivi. “So where is Donovan tonight?” he asked before she could take the discussion in a direction he didn’t want it to go.
“Tag is off doing something with his family. I’m boycotting them until they stop asking when we’re getting married.” Her gaze cut to her mother’s, one eyebrow lifting. Whatever Cassandra had been about to say, she thought better of it.
Daniel had to admire her control. There’d been a time— not too long ago—when, if not for Tag Donovan, Daniel might have tried his luck with Alex Scott. She was beautiful, well connected, and most of her conversation consisted of facial expressions and body language. When she actually spoke, she never minced words, and she didn’t wait around for a man to read her mind. She made her thoughts and feelings known in no uncertain terms.
Vivi was nothing if not cryptic. Sure, she was beautiful, and sexy, but in the short time he’d spent with her, she’d been contrary, unreasonable, frustrating, and irritating. He didn’t care for the way she kept cocking her head and gazing off into thin air, either. It was creepy. And she was too damn calm. People were shooting at them; she should have been panicky and clinging. Not that he wanted her to cling. The last thing he needed in his life was a helpless woman. Unless it was one with a hidden agenda.
Her eyes snapped back into focus, and she smiled a little, looking smug when she caught him staring. He hated smug.
“Drop us off in the park,” Cassandra instructed the pilot, “then take Mr. Pierce and his . . . friend anywhere he wants to go.”