Highways & Hostages (4 page)

“We worked together for several years. Then Christoph wanted to take things in a…different direction. He was fond of pieces made from rhino horns and elephant tusks.”

“Wildlife trafficking?” Finn asked, incredulous. “I may be morally ambiguous, but that’s a line you just don’t cross.”

“I share your sentiment, Finn,” Julian replied. “We argued over that point. The idea of it disgusted me, so we went our separate ways. I continued the Brotherhood in this vein, and Christoph formed his own organization.”

“But now von Rothschild is intercepting our deliveries and poaching our clients. Why?”

“We’re more successful than von Rothschild. It’s a lot harder to find people willing to smuggle and buy pieces derived from animals. My guess is that von Rothschild wants to be the big man in the art business. He comes from a long line of art collectors—it’s in his blood. And poor little upstart me is besting him.” Julian returned to his seat, a wry smile playing over his face, as Finn mulled over the information he’d just learned.

Julian cleared his throat. “Finn, you have royally fucked up.”

Finn opened his mouth to say something, but Julian held up a hand to stop him. “I recognize that you will do whatever is necessary to get the job done, but your problem-solving skills have gotten a little rusty. I need to talk to Christoph and see if we can work something out. Since he called me in pain from
his
home recovery room, vowing revenge and promising to remove all of my limbs
and
yours, I’ll have to give it some time. You need to lie low for the time being. I know Christoph has men crawling all over the city looking for you. At least you were wearing that ridiculous disguise. I’ll contact you when I have something figured out.”

Julian steepled his fingers again and pensively watched the fish tank. Finn took this as his cue to leave.

In the hallway outside the office, Finn raked a hand over his face. “Jesus, I’m fucked.”

“Watch your language!” Yvonne Bartlett called as she exited a room down the hall. Prior to managing Julian’s household for the last fifteen years, Yvonne had been brought on as Billy’s nanny soon after Julian’s wife, Sylvia, died of ovarian cancer.

Finn smiled and walked over to meet her, wrapping the petite, older woman in a hug. As Finn inhaled her familiar, flowery scent, some of his worry dissipated; she reminded him of his grandmother. He stepped back and looked into her cornflower-blue eyes, still sharp as ever. “How’s Alex?”

Yvonne petted the severe bun of snow-white hair on top of her head. “He’ll be good as new in a few weeks. Dr. Fletcher gave him something to help him sleep.”

“Can I see him?”

Yvonne put on what Finn and Alex called “the nanny face”—the face she wore whenever she found out Billy had done something stupid. “He needs his rest.”

“Please?” Finn wheedled. “Just a quick peek.”

Yvonne sighed and opened the door to Alex’s room. “You have one minute. Don’t wake him,” she whispered sternly.

Finn stepped into the room and Yvonne closed the door behind him. As Finn approached the bed, he let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. Alex looked the same as he usually did, if a little pale. Finn gazed at him for a second before taking a lap around Alex’s childhood bedroom.

The cool blue room was decorated with a nautical theme. A captain’s wheel hung above the large sleigh bed, and paintings of lighthouses and sketches of sailboats covered the walls. Finn ran his hands over the walnut bookcase that held Alex’s prized ship in a bottle and numerous soccer trophies. Finn was glad Alex was okay, but now he wondered what would have happened if his friend had been seriously injured. Would Julian have kicked him to the wayside? Or would he have indoctrinated him further into the Beckham family?

Julian had moved Finn to Las Vegas and set him up with a cushy life over ten years ago. As a result, Finn saw him as a father figure, but it was always in the back of his mind that Alex and Billy were his
actual
kids. When Finn first came to the city, Billy was thirteen and away at boarding school. Alex was nineteen and studying at college. He and Finn got acquainted the few times he came home on break, when he wasn’t off skiing in Aspen or sailing in the South of France. The two didn’t become close until after Alex graduated and moved back to the mansion to work for his father alongside Finn.

Finn had always been jealous of Alex, and if he was honest with himself, he still was. Growing up, Finn had never seen college in his future and had been fine with it. It was only when he met Alex and was regaled with stories about the college experience that he realized he had missed out. It turned into a recurring pattern. Finn envied the way Julian doted on Alex and the attention he received. He had never known his own father, who disappeared before his birth. Julian was good to him and taught him about every aspect of the art trafficking business as if he were preparing Finn to one day accept the reins. But Finn wanted more—he wanted what Alex had.

Maybe that was what first drew him to Claudia all those years ago—the fact that she was with Alex. He knew what had drawn Claudia to him: He was exotic, her chance at rebellion. Finn didn’t go to boarding school or “summer” in Nice. His mother was an alcoholic with no interest in his life. He spent time in a juvenile detention center. But despite the reasons they’d gotten together, they worked.

Finn shook away the memories, trying not to think about Claudia or that time in his and Alex’s friendship. Finn was envious of Alex, but he still thought of him as a brother. He stepped over to Alex’s bed and laid a careful hand on his shoulder.

“Glad you’re okay, buddy,” Finn whispered.

The door opened silently and Yvonne waved him over. With one last glance at Alex, Finn left the room.

The tinny sounds of The Clash’s “I Fought the Law” drifted from Finn’s nightstand to his ear. He blindly scrambled for the phone. The woman in bed next to him stirred.

“’Ello?” he said, groggy.

“Meet me on the golf course in 30 minutes,” Julian said. The dial tone buzzed.

Finn sighed in irritation and put the phone back on the nightstand before turning to his overnight guest. What was her name? Brenda? Brandy? Brittany? Ah, that was it, Brittany! He shook her shoulder gently but insistently.

“Mmm?” she murmured.

“You gotta go.” Finn swung his legs out of the bed, stood, and stretched.

“What time is it?”

“Time for you to go. I have a meeting,” Finn said, his tone businesslike. He pulled on a pair of discarded jeans.

“But—”

“I really have to go. Get up.” He strode to his walk-in closet and pulled out a navy V-neck.

“It’s Bridget, not Brittany,” the brunette huffed as she gathered the sheets around her and sat up in the bed.

“What?” Finn’s muffled voice asked through the shirt.

“My name is Bridget.
Not
Brittany,” she said with a pout.

“Right, Bridget. I am
so
sorry about that,” Finn apologized as he jammed his feet into his favorite pair of black Air Force 1s. He went to the bed and gathered her hands in his own. “Bridget, I will absolutely make this up to you, but this meeting is extremely important. You know I wouldn’t leave you if it wasn’t important.” Finn leaned forward and gave her a peck on the cheek before standing. Bridget smiled, stretched with a wide yawn, and lay back down.

“Wait, wait, wait. What’s happening?” Finn asked.

“I’m going back to sleep, silly.”

“Sweetie, I don’t think you understand. I’m leaving, so that means you have to leave too,” Finn said, not brooking any nonsense. He picked her clothes up off the floor and piled them on top of her. This type of behavior was exactly why Finn hated relationships. He didn’t have time to baby anyone.

“God, you are such an asshole,” Bridget spat. She hurriedly got out of the bed, still clutching the sheets around her naked body with one arm and her clothes in the other.

“Good girl,” Finn said, grabbing his sunglasses and cell from the nightstand. Bridget was clearly going to be another name scratched out of his little black book. Oh well, there were plenty of others.

After twenty minutes and further verbal abuse from Bridget, Finn strolled onto the sixth hole at Vista Palms Golf Course. He waited in silence while Julian lined up his shot. Julian’s longtime caddy, Jerome, stood off to the side and watched Julian’s progress. The ball rolled and stopped a good five feet in front of the hole.

“Walk with me,” Julian commanded without a backward glance.

Julian and Finn approached the ball. Julian studied the hole for a moment, then sunk the ball into the cup. Finn clapped politely.

Julian turned to Jerome. “Feel free to take a break.” He turned back to Finn and regarded him with narrowed eyes. “Word around the city is that Christoph has a high price on that big, stubborn head of yours. I’ve tried to reach him to no avail. I must admit I’m slightly worried.”

Finn swallowed and kicked at the grass. He was tired of hiding in his condo like some kid who’d been grounded after staying out too late. He ached to be out gathering items for clients and earning his keep in the Brotherhood.

“Christoph can be a very…volatile man. Sometimes his emotions lead him to act before thinking things through. Like another man I know,” Julian said, throwing a wry glance at Finn. “We need to let this blow over, which entails you getting out of town.”

“‘Getting out of town’? What does that mean?” Finn moved his glasses to the top of his head to look Julian in the eye.

“Yes, leave town. Coincidentally, I have a very important piece that needs fetching.”

“Oh? And where is this very important piece?”

“Millstown, Texas. It’s near San Antonio. The contact works at Armadillo Ernie’s Super Flea Market.”

Finn didn’t dare roll his eyes, but he allowed himself a shudder. “Armadillo Ernie’s in Millstown, Texas sounds totally legit. You want me to go to Millstown? No prob. I can fly out tomorrow.”

Julian rested both hands on top of his club. “It won’t be quite that easy.”

Finn raised an eyebrow.

“I want you to go to Millstown, but you’ll have to do it without my resources. I want you to prove you’ve still got what it takes to succeed in this business.”

Finn had a sinking feeling. “And that means…?”

“No chartered plane. No company credit cards. No fancy cars and chauffeurs. No wingmen. The bank account I set up for you when you first got here: frozen.”

“You can’t be serious,” Finn sputtered. “That’s all I have.”

“As serious as my son’s gunshot wound.”

Finn winced. “Julian, how the hell am I supposed to get to…Millstown…and get—what is it?”

“An imperial crown from Guatemala.”

Finn let out a low whistle. “We’re talking big money.”

“
Big
money.”

“Alright, just let me make sure we’re on the same page. You want me to get to Millstown, meet with the contact, and bring home a crown?”

“An imperial crown.”

“With no money or help from you? I don’t even have access to my bank account?”

“That is correct.”

“Julian, you’re killing me. What am I supposed to do? What about my grandmother’s bills?” Finn asked, sweat beading on his brow.

“I’ll cover your grandmother’s bills myself.” Julian sighed. “Jacob, I took you under my wing because you were resourceful, determined, and ambitious. You’re still all of those things, but you must rid yourself of your complacency. When you’re in our line of work, there’s no room for it. Complacency is what gets you in trouble.”

Finn shuffled back and forth, hands in his pockets, staring at the ground.

“I believe in you. Once, I would have said that you were the future of the Brotherhood, but at the moment, I’m having my doubts. I know Alex doesn’t want to do this for the rest of his life, and I wouldn’t trust Billy to take care of a houseplant, let alone an international organization with so many intricate moving pieces. You need to get back to basics.”

Finn was confused. It sounded as if Julian was grooming him to take over the Brotherhood, which sent a thrill down his spine. But he was slightly pissed that Julian was
still
making him jump through hoops after all these years, after all he’d done for the man. But maybe, just maybe, this journey would be the final weight needed to tip the scales in his favor.

Finn took a deep, steadying breath and nodded. He looked up and met Julian’s eyes. “You’re absolutely right. I know I screwed up at von Rothschild’s, and I know I’ve been taking it easy. I’m better than that.”

Julian regarded Finn with a shrewd eye, then clapped him on the shoulder. “I know you are.”

Finn nodded again, drumming his fingers against his thigh.
How much work could it take to get a stupid crown from Texas?
“I’ll do it.”

After Finn left the golf course, he went to the closest ATM he could find. He swiped his card, punched in his PIN, and waited. The machine whirred, but instead of presenting him with transaction options, the screen instructed him to contact his bank.

Shit.
Julian hadn’t been bluffing. Though the bank account held the vast majority of his money, there was a small stash of cash hidden in his apartment. It was little more than a thousand dollars, but at least it was something.

Finn’s next stop was the Beckham mansion. Yvonne let him into the house.

“How’s he doing today?” Finn asked.

Yvonne smiled. “Getting better every day, but don’t go getting him all riled up.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

Finn knocked on Alex’s door and entered at his greeting. With a wince, Alex sat up in the bed.

“Here, let me help you.” Finn rushed over to place pillows behind Alex’s back. “How are you feeling?”

Alex grinned. “Thanks, Nurse Finn. I’m feeling as well as can be expected, but being cooped up in my father’s house and under Yvonne’s care is driving me crazy. What have I missed?”

Finn dragged an armchair next to Alex’s bedside and threw himself into it with a sigh. He filled Alex in on his golf course meeting with Julian.