CLOSE TO YOU: Enhanced (Lost Hearts) (39 page)

             
"This is Hope Givens."

             
Hope Givens?
George stared at the highway as it wound through the Hill Country. The blood buzzed in his head.

             
"Hope Prescott Givens," she added helpfully.

             
Had Urbano failed him? Had Urbano screwed him?

             
"Senator, are you there?" She sounded exactly as she had twenty-three years ago—perky, composed, very much the minister's daughter.

             
Well, she'd sounded that way most of the time. Except when she'd found out that her parents were thieves, that no one wanted her and her siblings.
Then
she had shouted and cried. Poor, stupid, pathetic child.

             
"I'm here." That poor child had grown up to be the bane of his existence.

             
Not like his sweet Kate. Kate, who was sticking her nose where it did not belong.               "Good. I wouldn't want to lose you now." Hope managed to make simple words sound like intimidation.

             
She was threatening him, Senator George Oberlin. "Why are you calling me?"               "Why am I contacting you instead of Jason Urbano, do you mean?"

             
"What are you talking about?" George clutched the wheel.

             
"I mean, you were expecting a call from Jason telling you that Givens Industries had collapsed, that your investment in our competitors resulted in a fortune, and that I would never bother you again."

             
George heard his own breath. How did she know? Urbano had told her. He must have told her.

             
"Just in case you're making plans to release the information you've collected about Jason, I wouldn't. It's all phony, and it'll make you look like a fool." In a reflective tone, she added, "A bigger fool."

             
Comprehension struck George like a well-wielded baseball bat. He didn't even have to listen to know what she was going to say next. But he did. He listened very closely. He needed to know how many people would suffer his revenge.

             
"More than a year ago, my husband and I made a plan. We decided that if we couldn't convince you to tell us what had happened to my sister Caitlin, we would motivate you to cooperate by"—she pretended to think—"what's the word?"

             
George heard a man's crisp Boston voice on the line. "Blackmail."

             
"Yes, that's it. We would blackmail you into cooperating with us. So we set up a sting operation that involved Griswald—you know him as Freddy."

             
"Present." Freddy's crisp British accent.

             
"And Jason Urbano."

             
"Hello, Senator." Urbano sounded so smug. So superior.

             
"Also, Gabriel is a part of this—remember Gabriel, Senator? My foster brother?" Hope taunted Oberlin with his failure. "The muscle in our group is Dan Graham, my brother-in-law."

             
"Brother-in-law?" George couldn't believe what Hope was saying. "My sister's husband." Kate spelled it out so he couldn't be mistaken.

             
"Yes, it's true, I'm here, too." Another woman spoke in a firm, no-nonsense tone, one that reminded him so much of Lana a cold shiver slid down his spine. "Do you remember me? I'm the middle daughter. I'm Pepper."

             
"Quite the family reunion." He imagined them all standing there around a speaker phone, gloating. Then a horrific thought struck him. "Where are you?"

             
"We all came to Austin to be close to you," Hope said.

             
"Not so very close to me." Thank God, they weren't in Hobart. Even when they figured out where he had gone, he was two hours ahead of them. Two hours closer to Kate. "Why are you calling me?"

             
"You're an intelligent man, Senator. You know why we're calling you." Pepper's voice again, still with that stern, authoritative tone that sounded so much like Lana directing the Sunday School.

             
"It's not true that Givens Industries is going to fall, but it is true that we have sufficient taped evidence of your intention to commit industrial sabotage." Hope paused. "We can ruin you."

             
As George realized the magnitude of the sting, he swerved onto the shoulder of the road. The right wheels hit gravel. But he managed to correct before he spun out. He was a good driver. He was in control. "Tapes can be falsified."

             
"True. But your large investment in competitors' stocks proves your intention to destroy the corporation and defraud the stockholders." The nasty little bitch added, "I believe you overextended your credit, also. You can sell your investments, of course, but I don't think you're going to recoup your outlay. You see, we know how to play the market ourselves. The price you paid for the stocks is not what you're going to recover."

             
All these years. George had trapped police officials. He'd blackmailed other legislators. Now he was being jerked around, and by a simple minister's daughter.

             
"Are you there, Senator?" Hope asked.

             
"Yes." Yes, he was here, and he was going to make Hope sorry. He was going to make them all sorry. "What do you want?" As if he didn't know.

             
In a soothing tone, she said, "I'm not asking you to admit your guilt in the stolen church treasury. I'm not asking that you accept responsibility for my parents' deaths. But I want to know what you did with Caitlin. Senator, tell me what you did with my sister."

             
"Hope Prescott Givens, I know exactly where your sister is." He heard a sharp intake of breath from more than one person.

             
"Did you kill her?" she asked.

             
"When she was a baby? Don't be ridiculous. She's alive. I haven't killed her." A red tide of fury rose from his gut and washed over him. "Yet."

             
"No. Wait! Senator!"

             
With a little smug satisfaction of his own, he pressed the end call button, stepped on the gas, and sped toward Hobart.

Teague came awake to shouting and jostling, doors slamming . . . he was in a stopped vehicle. His head hurt, his ribs hurt, his face hurt. He felt like hell.

              Some guys had grabbed him, stuck a needle in his neck, and—

             
"Marilyn!"

             
He sat up so fast nausea hit him in a rush.

             
"Lie down." It was a man's voice. He sounded more than a little harassed as he pressed Teague down onto his back. "Or you'll toss your cookies for sure."

             
"Where the hell am I?" Teague pressed his hands to his face. "What have you done with Mrs. Montgomery?"

             
"I'm right here, dear." Her warm, kind voice spoke above his head. "They're going to drop us off at the FBI."

             
"You are kidding." He looked around. He rested on the carpeted floor of an industrial-sized van. Benches lined the walls on either side. The windows were darkly tinted. Two women he had never seen before sat on one side. Nice-looking women—a brunette with highlights, and one with hair as black as Teague's. They clutched each other's hands, they watched him, but they weren't really seeing him. They both had an unfocused, strained look in their eyes.

             
Marilyn Montgomery sat on the opposite bench, looking anxious but composed. "They've all been very nice, but now they're in a hurry to go to the airport."

             
"This doesn't make any sense," Teague said. "Why are they dropping us off at the FBI? Why did they take us in the first place?
Who are they?"

             
"We took you because you're investigating Senator George Oberlin, and the lady said you were going to the FBI about him." The military man who'd stuck the needle in Teague stood, feet braced, holding on to a strap and looking at ease. But tough. Flinty-eyed. "And we're the people who have been after Oberlin for way too long to have you tip him off now."

             
"But?" Teague looked up at him.

             
"He's not cooperating," the guy said briefly. "He's crazy.

             
"No." Teague drew the word out, injecting disbelief into his tone. "Ya think?"

             
"I'm Dan Graham." Dan extended his hand. "Sorry about the needle."

             
Teague considered the hand. But he figured Dan was telling the truth. If these people had been planning to kill Marilyn and him, they would have done it already. He shook hands. "Teague Ramos."

             
Dan inspected Teague's face. "Somebody worked you over good."

             
"Yeah, one day I walk down the street, and people beat me up. The next day, they stick a needle in my neck to knock me out." With heavy sarcasm, Teague said, "I can't
wait
to see what tomorrow brings."

             
The engine started, the van moved forward.

             
Teague looked toward the front.

             
The driver was a total stranger . . . but maybe not. Teague thought he'd seen him somewhere. In the movies? The newspapers? The guy riding shotgun was the bastard who had grabbed Teague and held him for the injection. Teague was pleased to see he now had an Ace bandage wrapped around his wrist. Apparently, Teague had done a little damage before he'd blacked out.

             
No matter. In Teague's current condition, with his cracked ribs, his battered face and a crushing headache, he wouldn't care to take him on. Take on any of them. The three men exuded that air of competence that warned other men to step carefully.

             
The women weren't like the guys. They exuded intelligence, beauty, charm, but not toughness. They were the kind of women men lost their heads over. Women who domesticated the world. Women . . . like Kate.

             
Slowly, testing his balance, Teague sat up. These women didn't really look like Kate, but they had the same air about them. Women in command. Women . . . he fished out his phone.

             
The red message light blinked.

             
Dan's hand clamped over his. "What are you doing?"

             
"I'm supposed to be guarding Kate Montgomery from Oberlin. I'll talk to her and make sure she's all right." He challenged Dan with his gaze.

             
"I'm sure she's all right. Oberlin's got other matters on his mind right now," Dan said.

             
"Then it doesn't matter if I call her." Teague saw the glance Dan exchanged with one of the women, intimate and worried. Teague challenged him. "Would you leave the matter to chance with your woman?"

             
Dan released his hand. "Call her. If she's near Oberlin, tell her to get away. He just discovered how much trouble he's in."

             
Teague dialed her cell. It rang.

             
Marilyn sat forward and intently watched him. "Come on, Kate," she said.

             
Kate's voice mail picked up.

             
"I didn't get her, but that's all right," he soothed. "I've got a message. She promised to check in. I'm sure it's from her." He pressed the button to connect with his voice mail.

             
"Do you know why Oberlin is stalking your Kate?" the dark-haired woman asked.

The automated v
oice went through its perambulations. "You have four new messages. The first new message . . ."

             
Big Bob's voice boomed in Teague's ear. "Hey, boss, thought you would want to know Oberlin left for lunch early."

             
"Oberlin left for lunch early." Which was interesting, but Teague wanted to hear from Kate.

             
"Kate looks like someone he knew." Marilyn didn't take her gaze off Teague. "Someone he . . . well, we think he killed this other woman."

             
"Killed . . . if he kills . . ." A sob escaped the brunette. "The last time I saw her, she was just a baby and now—"

             
The other woman wrapped her arms around her and rocked. "It's okay, Hope. We can't give up now."