Colby Lockdown
Colby Lockdown
Debra Webb
Colby Lockdown
Debra Webb
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
Table of Contents
Cover (#ua8836c11-3774-534b-a7d6-20948c555dd7)
Title Page (#u4a75e377-2091-510b-8ecf-61449021be2a)
About the Author (#ulink_094aa92d-351e-58e6-8aee-513723bc039e)
Chapter One (#ulink_90f635bd-2196-517d-bb01-c92a1b6bce64)
Chapter Two (#ulink_89d7a8ff-9164-596d-ba86-005cbbe887a2)
Chapter Three (#ulink_a2cd3d04-397b-5c0b-b7d8-0b48cf525e22)
Chapter Four (#ulink_6592f335-093f-5e39-8c68-d22299306507)
Chapter Five (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fourteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fifteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Sixteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Seventeen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eighteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Nineteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty (#litres_trial_promo)
Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)
About the Author (#ulink_e9c7515b-0dd1-55bd-863e-f5c732a252ae)
DEBRA WEBB was born in Scottsboro, Alabama, to parents who taught her that anything is possible if you want it badly enough. She began writing at the age of nine. Eventually, she met and married the man of her dreams, and tried some other occupations, including selling vacuum cleaners, working in a factory, a daycare center, a hospital and a department store. When her husband joined the military, they moved to Berlin and Debra became a secretary in the commanding general’s office.
By 1985 they were back in the States, and finally moved to Tennessee, to a small town where everyone knows everyone else. With the support of her husband and two beautiful daughters, Debra took up writing again. In 1998, her dream of writing for Mills & Boon came true. You can write to Debra with your comments at PO Box 64, Huntland, Tennessee 37345, USA or visit her website at www.debrawebb.com to find out exciting news about her next book.
Dear Reader,
This year marks a special anniversary for the Colby Agency: ten years of breathtaking suspense in Intrigue! AS a special treat for the many, many loyal readers, the Colby Agency will be presented to you in an unparalleled six-book series, UNDER SIEGE. Here’s a peek of what’s to come!
Colby Lockdown—The Colby Agency is under siege from an unknown enemy. For the first time in Colby history, the infamous Equalizers and the most trusted investigators of the agency must come together as a team.
Colby Justice—A mock trial will determine the fate of one member of Chicago’s seedy streets. One man will act as judge and executioner. The head of the Colby Agency is trapped amid that nightmare. Her investigators and the Equalizers have one chance and only twenty-four hours to salvage the situation…
Colby Control and Colby Velocity—These two back-to-back installments follow the edge-of-your-seat challenges of the cases facing the Colby Agency while Jim Colby and his Equalizers merge into day-to-day operations. Watch out for them in March 2011!
Colby Holiday and Colby New Year—As the UNDER SIEGE series comes to a close, the shake-up at the Colby Agency has settled. The Equalizers have meshed fully with the Colby Agency. The dangerous cases to come will require the expert skills and uncanny instincts of this newly formed staff.
So read on! You’ll find the Colby Agency only at Mills & Boon® Intrigue. For news about the Colby Agency and more, check out my website, www.DebraWebb.com.
Enjoy!
Debra Webb
Victoria Colby-Camp has stood alone at the helm of the Colby Agency for more than two decades. She survived the abduction of her son, her only child, and the brutal murder of her husband. Despite the pain and the numerous efforts of her enemies, she held her ground and remained steadfast. After years of loneliness, she fell in love with the one man who knew her better than she knew herself—Lucas Camp. She survived the return of her son. Opened her heart to the savage man he had become and helped him heal.
After twenty long years of not knowing if her son was dead or alive, her family was whole again. A grandchild brought new joy and gave Victoria hope for the kind of happiness she had not dared to dream of in the past. Yet a woman whose agency has helped hundreds locate loved ones, find resolution to their dilemmas and obtain happiness makes more than a few enemies along the way—as her beloved first husband did in his life and as her only son has done in his. Just last year a threat to Victoria’s granddaughter shook her to the core.
In true Victoria fashion, she and her venerable staff at the Colby Agency stamped out the evil that threatened. Victoria will never allow evil to triumph as long as she is breathing.
But how much longer will she continue breathing? The Colby Agency is under siege…turn the page and begin the first of six Intrigue books that will reveal the fight for survival.
Chapter One (#ulink_6ec871d2-ff51-502b-9223-ccb56dca4203)
Colby Agency, Chicago Monday, January 20, 7:45 a.m.
“Victoria.”
Victoria Colby-Camp looked up from the Monday-morning briefing agenda she had prepared and smiled for the investigator waiting in her open door. “Good morning, Nicole. Did you have a nice weekend?”
Nicole Reed-Michaels moved across the office and settled into a chair in front of Victoria’s desk. “I did, indeed.” Nicole’s lips slid into a pleasant upward tilt. “Ian and I discussed the possibility of a vacation this year.” Her gaze searched Victoria’s. “One that doesn’t include the children.”
“Ah,” Victoria said, understanding now, “a second honeymoon.” Ian and Nicole had been married for nine years. Two children, both school age, and their work had been the couple’s focus for nearly a decade. It was past time the two took some alone time for themselves. Victoria was more than a little pleased to learn this news. “No one deserves it more.” She didn’t have to say that she knew this from experience. Victoria had long denied her own needs for her work and her family. “That’s excellent news. Do you have a particular destination or time frame in mind?”
Nicole relaxed fully into her chair. Before coming to work at the Colby Agency she had served with the Federal Bureau of Investigation. No one should be fooled by her silky blond hair or that tall, runway physique. Nicole Reed-Michaels was not only extremely intelligent, but she was also an expert marksman and she knew how to take down an assailant with her bare hands. She was one of the agency’s very best investigators. Not to mention she was married to Ian Michaels, Victoria’s longtime second-in-command.
Another of those warm smiles appeared, emphasizing the tiny laugh lines that were the only indicators of age on Nicole’s otherwise flawless face. “The Caribbean, I think. We’re still discussing when and for how long.”
“Two weeks,” Victoria suggested, “at least.” Before long she and Lucas would need to take a nice, indulgent vacation. They’d celebrated their sixth anniversary recently. It was time.
Last summer Victoria’s son, Jim, had taken an exciting vacation to Africa with his wife, Tasha. It seemed everyone was taking vacations… except Victoria.
Yes, it was well past time.
A stifled scream echoed beyond Victoria’s open door, hauling her attention there. Both she and Nicole were on their feet immediately.
“What was that?” Nicole whirled toward the sound.
Before Victoria could round her desk, Mildred burst into the office. “You’ve forgotten your salon appointment,” she urged Victoria. “You must go now!” Her eyes were wide with fear.
Nicole and Victoria’s gazes met briefly even as they rushed across the room.
Both knew what that seemingly silly phrase meant.
Danger had descended upon the Colby Agency. Victoria had to leave via the stairwell next to her office.
Now.
But what about Nicole? Mildred? And the others?
“Go,” Nicole reaffirmed as she paused in the doorway. “I’ll take care of things here.”
Victoria hesitated.
“Go,” Mildred repeated.
Fear expanded in Victoria’s throat even as her heart threatened to rupture from her chest. She hurried through the small private lobby where Mildred greeted Victoria’s appointments, opened the door to the stairwell in the narrow corridor beyond and flung herself through it.
Dear God. How could she leave everyone else behind? She should go back…assess the threat.
What was happening?
Don’t think, Victoria ordered.
Go!
Her staff would need her to get through this. She couldn’t help anyone with whatever situation was unfolding if she allowed herself to be overtaken. Whatever was going on…she had to escape.
Victoria hurried downward as fast as she dared. She ticked off a mental list of what she would do as soon as she was clear of the building.
Call Ian. He was off duty today. Having just completed an assignment, he had the mandatory forty-eight hours off.
Of course she would call Lucas. He had arrived home only last night from a four-daylong business trip to D.C. An hour ago she’d left him poring over the newspaper and drinking coffee. He might even be on his way here by now. He usually dropped by the agency every day that he was home.
And Jim. Dear God, she had to call her son.
Then the police.
Victoria couldn’t be sure if Mildred had had time to activate the silent alarm system that would notify the authorities.
The agency’s security system was state-of-the-art. As was the entire building’s for that matter. Why hadn’t the security guards alerted her to the threat? Both men had been at their posts in the lobby when she arrived half an hour ago.
“Good morning, ma’am.”
Victoria drew up short as she reached the landing on the second floor. Only one more floor to go…but she wouldn’t make it.
Dread congealed in her stomach.
The man dressed in black, including a ski-type mask to keep his face hidden, held a weapon aimed directly at her chest.
“We should return to your office, Mrs. Colby-Camp,” he said quite cordially. “I’d hate for you to miss the opening act of the show.”
Fury whipped through Victoria, taming her fear and stiffening her spine. “What the hell do you want?”
“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves now.” He gestured with the weapon for her to get moving. “Back up the stairs, ma’am.”
Determination instantly replaced the dread, fueling the fury building inside her. “Not until you tell me what you want and who you are.”
The evil bastard had the gall to laugh. “You’ve been in this business a long time, Victoria. I’m certain you’ve been faced with all kinds of situations and all sorts of people.” Those vile lips split into a grin. “I’ll bet that on occasion you’ve even run in to someone you really wish you hadn’t messed with….” His gaze bored into hers, relaying just how little he cared whether she lived or died. “Well, that someone is me.”
Chapter Two (#ulink_c906d86c-a340-58c3-9a41-a36e0f812ecb)
7:57 a.m.
He was going to be late this morning.
Slade Convoy didn’t actually have to be at work today, but the excitement of closing another case had to be shared. And no one understood that better than his colleagues at the Colby Agency.
His last case had been a tough one. A missing child and dysfunctional parents. The agency had been contacted by the child’s paternal grandparents. Seven days missing, the child was presumed by many to be dead. Slade himself had had his doubts about finding her alive.
A triumphant smile slid across his lips. But he’d found her, very much alive. Right where her bipolar mother had hidden her.
The child was back with her father under the supervision of loving grandparents. All was right in their world once more.
The story had to be shared. He had to bask in the glory of victory with the folks who had become his family. The only family he’d ever had, really.
Slade shook off the ugly thoughts and focused on maneuvering the Magnificent Mile. As a kid he’d never imagined that one day he would work in the area. He’d considered himself lucky to have a decent meal before bedtime each night.
Life was good…now.
He appreciated every single moment.
His cell vibrated as he slowed for a traffic signal. He tucked his fingers into his pocket and fished out the phone.
He glanced at the screen and immediately recognized Ian Michaels’s number. Ian was his boss. One of them anyway. Ian and Simon Ruhl were at the top of the Colby Agency food chain. Victoria ran the show, but never without the input of those two.
Slade slid the phone open. “What’s up?” Strange, Slade thought, that Ian would call at this hour. Ian had bragged that today he intended to do something special with his kids.
“We have a situation.”
Ian Michaels wasn’t one to mince words and his tone was always calm and reserved. The man never lost his cool. Never raised his voice. And never, ever backed down or sugarcoated anything. He was about as soft as an eight-pound sledgehammer. But Slade could tell from Ian’s tone something was wrong.
Slade shifted his foot to the accelerator as the light changed to green. Whatever the situation, it was bad. Very bad.
“A situation?” Slade returned.
“Meet me at Maggie’s across the street from the agency. I’ll be waiting on the second floor.”
“I’m close. Be there in a sec,” Slade assured him. The connection ended so he slid the phone closed and tucked it back into the pocket of his jeans as he scouted for a parking slot on a side street. Maggie’s Coffee House had once been a ritzy restaurant that had slowly shifted focus over the years to become a street-level café. The second floor of the artsy coffeehouse that had once been a private dining room was now used mainly for storage.
Why the hell would Ian be waiting there?
After parking his four-wheel-drive truck, Slade double-timed it up the sidewalk toward the front entrance of Maggie’s. He hesitated when he saw a familiar face heading in the same direction from the street.
“Lucas?”
Lucas Camp stopped, one hand on the door leading into Maggie’s. “Convoy,” the older man acknowledged, obviously not surprised.
This was getting more bizarre by the moment. Lucas was Victoria’s husband, but he wasn’t on the staff of the Colby Agency. Slade hustled over to the door. “What’s going on?”
Lucas shook his head. “I don’t know the details yet. Ian asked that I meet him here ASAP.” A glimpse of worry flashed in the man’s eyes before he moved forward, leading the way through the door. At the hostess’s questioning look, Lucas gestured toward the stairs beyond the serving counter. She nodded as if she understood exactly what was going on.
Slade sure as hell wished he knew what was going on as he climbed the stairs behind Lucas. Well into his sixties, Lucas was damned fit, but he’d lost a leg in a long-ago war and the prosthesis he wore slowed him down a bit. But Lucas Camp didn’t need any sympathy from Slade or anyone else. The man could be lethal when the need arose. He’d worked numerous deep-cover operations with the CIA for years. Even since retiring he still returned to D.C. monthly to advise the agency on the best way to conduct upcoming operations.
On the second floor, the big single room was cluttered with boxes of paper goods. Across the room near the windows overlooking the Mag Mile, Ian Michaels waited. He turned to face the new arrivals and there was no mistaking the grim expression he wore.
Whatever was going down, it was bad.
“What’s going on, Ian?” Lucas demanded as he and Slade weaved their way through the stacks of boxes.
“Jim is on his way,” Ian advised, avoiding a direct answer to the question.
Slade stared at the building across the street as he neared Ian’s position. His gaze zeroed in on the windows of the floor where the Colby Agency suite of offices should have been buzzing with activity. It was Monday morning after all. From the outside the situation appeared to be like any other snowy January day. No smoke billowing, no shattered glass, no official emergency vehicles in the vicinity of the building. What could be wrong?
“That’s good,” Lucas said in response to Ian’s statement regarding Jim, “but that doesn’t answer my question.”
Ian shifted his attention to the windows of the Colby Agency offices Slade still surveyed. “At seven forty-five this morning, a group of armed men dressed as SWAT agents laid siege to the agency and everyone inside.”
“That’s…crazy….” A chill penetrated deep into Slade’s bones. Mondays were early days. The weekly briefing. Not only was Victoria—Lucas’s wife and the head of the agency—in there, but so was every single member of the staff except for Slade and Ian…including Ian’s wife, Nicole.
“How many men?” Lucas asked the question before Slade could gather his wits and utter the same.
With an uncharacteristic shake of his head, Ian turned once more to face them. “I don’t know for certain. Nicole managed to get a call through to my cell but she was cut off before…” He swallowed with difficulty. “Before she could fully assess the situation. She mentioned five, then seven. But there could be more.”
The same terror humming beneath Ian’s tone had claimed the usually unreadable expression on Lucas’s face. “Was Nicole aware of any injuries?”
“She didn’t get a chance to relay anything more.”
“The security guards on duty have most likely been neutralized,” Slade suggested, now visually measuring the front entrance. He hoped no one had been killed but there was always that possibility. Anyone else from the businesses housed on the other floors who might have opted to go into work early that morning had likely been taken prisoner or were dead. “We should call LSS and have them issue a warning to stay clear of the building.”
LSS, Lockdown Security Systems, were the folks in charge of the building’s physical security.
“That was going to be my next—”
“That was the first call I received this morning,” Ian said, cutting off Lucas. “LSS called to inform me that the building was in lockdown mode due to a gas leak and no one was to enter until the all clear was given. Before I could question the directive or pass along that the agency already had people inside, Nicole’s call came in.”
Lucas surveyed the building in question once more. “I don’t see any official vehicles. No city maintenance crews.”
“I assume the so-called leak was a ploy to enact lockdown. I’ve had no further word from LSS so I have to assume someone is running interference there.”
Ian was right. Whoever had set this game in motion had done their homework. “Have you called the Chicago P.D.?” Slade asked. Since there were no cruisers in the vicinity he imagined the answer was no, but Ian could certainly have informed one of the agency’s many contacts within Chicago P.D. to come in dark. The real SWAT folks could be on standby out of sight.
“That’s not a move I want to make until I fully comprehend the terms of this situation.”
Understandable. Until the terms were known, their hands were tied to a great degree.
“What’s happening, Lucas?”
All three turned as Jim Colby crossed the room. The man hadn’t made a sound on the stairs. Slade never ceased to be impressed by Victoria’s son. He’d been trained as a mercenary as a boy. Could kill a man in mere seconds with nothing but his bare hands. As tall and muscled as he was, he could still move as stealthily as any predator of the jungle.
Lucas quickly explained what little Ian knew at this point. The fury that started to throb in Jim’s temples warned that he would not stand by and wait for terms. Slade wanted to act as well. But, as Ian had shown already, this was the time for patience and levelheadedness. Jim Colby possessed neither.
“I’ll assemble my team,” Jim announced. “We’ll move in within the hour.”
Jim ran a private investigations shop. But his staff worked around the law more often than not. They called themselves the Equalizers. In sharp contrast, the Colby Agency maintained a stellar reputation, going to great lengths to cooperate fully with law enforcement. Victoria and Jim didn’t see eye to eye on the way business was to be conducted.
“No.”
The single syllable echoed in the silence that followed. Only two men on this planet had the guts to stare Victoria’s son in the eye and tell him no: Lucas Camp and the one who’d just said the word—Ian Michaels. This was about to get hairy.
“If we’re not going in,” Jim growled, his gaze narrowing with the rage climbing inside him, “then what are you suggesting we do?”
“We do nothing,” Ian said flatly, “until we know what the terms of this takeover are. Any step we take might be the wrong one. We wait for the man in charge to make his demands.”
Jim walked two steps away, his hands planted on his hips, apparently to regain some measure of control. Or maybe to mentally pull together an entrance strategy.
Lucas took a breath. “Jim,” he said as calmly and quietly as could be expected under the circumstances, “Ian has a valid point. We have to think tactically here. Allowing an emotional reaction could cause more harm than good.”
Jim glared at his stepfather, then at Ian. “Reacting is not my specialty. This calls for action. Now.” He said the last with a pointed stare at Ian. “Waiting will only allow the intruders to gain a stronger foothold.”
Ian’s grim expression remained in place as he held the other man’s lethal glare. “I am Victoria’s second-in-command. I am and will continue to be in charge. We will proceed with caution.”
Jim reclaimed the steps he’d taken, putting him toe-to-toe with Ian. “Victoria is my mother. We’ll do things my way. No negotiations.”
Slade shared a look with Lucas. The circumstances were sensitive to say the least. Both men were strong-willed and each had a legitimate point. But, as a staff member of the Colby Agency, Slade’s alliance had to be with Ian. Jim was operating solely on emotion. Bad business at a moment like this.
Lucas stepped between the two men, forcing both to take a much-needed step back. “Everyone in this room has a vested interest in how this turns out.” He glanced at Jim, then at Ian. “We will all remain calm and we will lay out a proper strategy. There will be no going in blind or taking unnecessary risks before we have a single detail to go on.”
Slade relaxed marginally. If anyone could control this out-of-control moment, Lucas could.
The chirp of a cell phone shattered the tense silence.
Ian reached into the pocket of his suit jacket and pulled out his cell. “Michaels.”
A muscle throbbed in Jim’s hard-set jaw. Lucas stared hopefully at Ian. Slade waited, also hoping that this would be some kind of news. A first move.
Time was slipping by. Every second that lapsed could be one that may have been pivotal to saving one or more lives. The lives of people Slade knew and cared for deeply. Whatever happened, in all probability the Colby Agency would never be the same.
“Yes,” Ian said, “I understand.” He drew the phone from his ear and touched the screen. “As requested, you are on speakerphone.”
Adrenaline moved through Slade’s veins.
“Fourteen staff members as well as Victoria Colby-Camp are now my hostages,” the male voice announced. “All communications inside the building, including the Internet, cell phones and landlines, have been disabled. The building is stalled in lockdown mode and under my control. No one gets in or out. If anyone tries, the hostages will die. If the authorities, local or federal, are contacted, the hostages will die.”
No one made a sound or even breathed. The distant hum of conversation and coffee mugs sliding across tables and counters from below were the only sounds.
“Are you prepared to issue your demands for the release of the hostages?” Ian inquired with amazing calm and self-assurance.
Jim looked away, the fury now visibly pulsing across his brow.
“There are only two.”
Only two. Great, Slade mused.
All four men waited for the harsh nightmare to become a stone-cold reality.
“Former District Attorney Timothy Gordon will be brought, by whatever means necessary, to the front entrance of the building. This demand is nonnegotiable.”
Now Slade got the picture. This wasn’t about the Colby Agency at all. It was about one of Chicago’s most prestigious political figures.
“Is it your intent to exchange the hostages for Gordon?” Ian asked, his tone still incredibly calm.
“I have two demands, Mr. Michaels,” the man said, his voice equally calm and absolutely firm. “When you have met this first demand, we will discuss the status of the hostages as well as the next step.”
“This is Lucas Camp,” the oldest of those gathered in the storeroom asserted. “Before we go any further, we will need proof of life. And a detailed listing of the physical condition of all hostages.”
The caller made a sound, not really a laugh but something on that order. “We have three injuries, none life-threatening. But, Mr. Camp, if you’re asking about the condition of your wife, she is indeed among the injured.”
Jim swore loudly. Ian and Lucas shot him a glare. Slade moved to Jim’s side, placed a hand on his arm and urged him with his eyes to stay calm. The slightest wrong move or comment could set off a chain reaction no one wanted.
“Under the circumstances,” Ian offered, “we must demand that you release the injured hostages before we proceed with negotiations.”
The sound that echoed in the air was an outright laugh this time. “Mr. Michaels, this is a one-way negotiation. You will bring Gordon to the front entrance. As I’ve already explained, we will discuss the release of the hostages at that point and not a moment sooner.”
“You,” Jim warned, stepping forward, “have made a grave mistake. Release the hostages now and we’ll forget this ever happened. Refuse and you have my word that your life will never again be your own.”
“You have sixty seconds to agree to this demand.”
Shock throbbed in the silence that followed.
“If you do not agree to this demand in the next fifty-five seconds,” the voice demanded when no one responded, “one of the hostages will die.”
“This is—” Ian began.
“Fifty seconds,” the man on the phone interrupted. “Another hostage will die with each minute that passes after that.”
More of that choking silence.
“Forty seconds, gentlemen. Perhaps I’ll start with one of the females.” There was a muffled sound followed by the caller shouting to one of his cohorts, “Bring me the deaf woman. I doubt anyone will really miss her.”
Slade held his breath. Dear God…
“We will do everything in our power,” Ian said, shattering the tension, “to meet your demand.”
“Not good enough, Michaels,” the voice warned. “Thirty seconds.”
“How long do we have to bring Gordon to you?” Jim roared.
Ian looked from Lucas to Jim as if he wanted to argue, but fear for his wife as well as the others kept him from voicing his concerns.
“Twenty-three hours and nineteen minutes. You will deliver D.A. Gordon to the front entrance of the building by seven forty-five tomorrow morning or everyone dies. And I do mean everyone.”
“He’ll be there,” Jim announced. “You have my word.”
“Remember, gentlemen,” the voice cautioned, “any contact with the authorities, any attempts to gain entrance to the building, and everyone dies.”
“You have my word,” Jim repeated without reservation. “Gordon will be there on time as requested. We will cooperate fully with all your terms.”
“Excellent. I’m always relieved when no one has to die. But,” the man added, his voice pulsating with pure evil, “I will without remorse execute one hostage after the other until they’re all dead if the need arises. My men will disappear as quickly and untraceably as they appeared. Just like smoke. Do we understand each other?”
“Perfectly,” Jim stated.
The connection was severed. Ian immediately started entering numbers on the keypad of his cell. Jim stopped him. “What’re you doing?”
“Determining if I can track the call back to a traceable number.”
Jim snatched the cell out of his hand. Fury glistened in Ian’s eyes.
“We will contact no one,” Jim told him in no uncertain terms. “We will deliver Gordon just as he requested.”
Again Lucas intervened. “Convoy will get to work on rounding up Gordon,” he suggested. “Ian and I will attempt to get to the bottom of who’s behind this takeover.”
“And my people,” Jim said, “will determine if there is a way inside without detection.”
Three, then five seconds of traumatic silence elapsed.
“Agreed,” Ian said, capitulating.
“Agreed,” Lucas chimed in.
All three looked to Slade. He held up his hands. “I’m ready to do whatever needs to be done.”
“Good.” Jim set his formidable attention on Slade. “Find Gordon. Bring him in.”
Not exactly the easiest job he’d ever been assigned. “What if he doesn’t want to cooperate?” Slade felt the question was a legitimate one.
“Do whatever is necessary,” Jim told him. “Just get him here.”
Slade hesitated to see if Ian would object. When he didn’t, Slade shrugged. “No problem.”
Chapter Three (#ulink_c21ab457-1556-5790-962b-7c69e0a21387)
Inside the Colby Agency, 8:50 a.m.
Victoria tightened her lips against the moan that welled in her throat. Her head throbbed and nausea roiled in her stomach.
She couldn’t show the first sign of weakness. The others were depending upon her.
All fourteen of her staff members had been shoved into the conference room. Two others were injured as well. Thankfully none appeared to be life-threatening.
“Victoria.”
She drew in a deep breath and forced a calm into her voice that she by no means felt. “I’m all right,” she assured Nicole. “We’re all going to be all right. I’m certain Ian, Lucas and Jim are doing all within their power to regain control of the situation.”
Merri Walters most likely had a mild concussion, at the very least a contusion. Victoria ached for the woman. Unable to hear the approach of the bastards who had taken control of the Colby Agency, Merri hadn’t reacted rapidly enough. She’d gotten a brutal whack to the back of the head for the delay. But she was coherent and, mercifully, showed no outward signs of serious trouble.
Fury vibrated through Victoria. Whatever these animals wanted, they would be sorry they had chosen the Colby Agency as their target.
She would see to that. Somehow.
Nicole glanced at Merri and the others huddled around her. “She seems okay.” Her attention shifted to the newest investigator on the Colby staff, Kendra Todd. The swelling and bruises on her face reminded all the others that back talk would not be permitted. “But I’ll need to keep an eye on Kendra. She isn’t accustomed to being pushed around.”
Several of the men, Ted Tallant and Trinity Barrett in particular, had their share of swelling, bruises and scrapes for having attempted to fight off the attack while the rest, Victoria included, ran for exits.
Their captors had been prepared for just such a diversion. Both fire exits had been covered and the elevators had been locked down.
“You monitor Kendra and help Simon with the others,” Victoria agreed. “I’m going to see if I can learn the shackled prisoner’s identity.” He was the one unknown variable in this equation.
Nicole’s gaze followed Victoria’s to the man on the other side of the room. He’d been dragged into the conference room and shackled to a chair as far away from Victoria’s staff as possible within the confines of the same four walls. A cloth sack covered his face and head, and his plain gray sweatshirt and worn jeans gave no indication of who he was or where he’d come from. The generic sneakers he wore had seen far better days. There was nothing about his appearance or his bearing that gave the slightest impression of who he was. He hadn’t attempted to speak or escape, which could mean he was either gagged or drugged. Not that escape was an option considering the way his ankles and wrists were bound together and his waist was manacled to the chair. His head drooped forward as if he were in fact unconscious.
“His guard doesn’t look too friendly,” Nicole commented under her breath.
That much was true. The guard wore black like all the others, including the concealing ski mask. The weapon in his hand indicated he didn’t trust anyone enough to holster it. Though all visible beyond the mask were his dark eyes, that glimpse into his psyche warned that he wasn’t taking any chances or any grief.
“The least I can do is try,” Victoria insisted as she struggled from her position on the floor to her feet. Her head swam. She braced against the wall to steady herself. She’d made the mistake of struggling with the two men who had escorted her to this room. Being made an example of wasn’t a surprise—she’d expected as much. Her attackers had wanted to ensure all present realized that Victoria was no longer in control. Several of her staff members had gotten roughed up when they’d attempted to come to her aid. All the more reason she had to tread carefully. Her staff would be taking their cues from her.
Their safety depended a great deal on her every action.
Even as the thought echoed in her brain, she slowly crossed the room toward the shackled man and his personal guard. She’d already spotted the tracks of dried blood down the front of his sweatshirt. He no doubt needed medical attention the same as she did and many of her staff members.
“Back on the floor,” the man with the gun ordered. He shifted the business end of his weapon in her direction to reinforce his order.
Victoria halted. “He’s bleeding.” She gestured to the mysterious prisoner. “I just want to check to see that he’s not seriously injured. He may need medical attention.”
The guard scoffed. “He’ll be dead soon enough. Any injuries he sustained are inconsequential.”
Victoria refused to flinch. “Surely you don’t mean to deprive us of proper care for our injuries, and some water.” She indicated the door on the other side of the room. “There’s bottled water and coffee in the lounge across the hall. And first-aid supplies.” If someone made a run for it, it couldn’t be her. She would not leave a single member of her staff behind. Perhaps Nicole would be allowed to go across the hall. She could attempt an escape if the opportunity presented itself.
This very minute Lucas, Ian and Jim would be planning how to resolve this takeover. These bastards had no idea how lucky they would be to survive the coming battle.
“Sit down,” the guard ordered. “Or—” he shifted his aim toward the others huddled around Merri “—one of them dies.”
Victoria backed up a step. “Fine. I’ll sit.” She couldn’t take the risk that he might not be bluffing. “But you, sir, should think about how to keep your hostages from further harm. We’re no good to you unless we’re alive.”
His glare was his only response.
The unidentified prisoner was apparently unconscious. She hadn’t heard a moan or any other sort of sound from him. If he’d been awake and aware of himself, he would surely have tried to communicate as Victoria had questioned the guard about him.
As she settled on the floor near the members of her staff, she and Nicole exchanged a look of defeat.
No. Victoria refused to be defeated. Not by these men. Not by anyone. True, she had lost that battle, but she wasn’t through by a long shot.
Simon Ruhl, one of her most trusted investigators and one of her seconds-in-command, kept one arm around Merri as she leaned against his shoulder. He flashed a ghost of a smile at Victoria. She understood what the gesture meant. They would be okay. Lucas, Ian and Jim would not fail. They would find a way to neutralize the hostiles. Simon’s confidence affirmed her own.
All Victoria and her people had to do was remain patient and cooperate with these infiltrators. This day, this nightmare, would soon be reversed. The most brilliant minds on the planet were working together.
The conference room door abruptly flew inward. All eyes swung to the man loitering in the open doorway.
“You,” the man who appeared to be in charge said to Victoria, “come with me.” It was impossible to tell him apart from the others except for his voice. His accent said he wasn’t an American by birth. Perhaps he was of European ancestry.
Simon and several others braced to defend Victoria, but she signaled with a small shake of her head for them to stand down.
Whatever happened to her, the most important thing was for the others to remain safe. To survive.
As Victoria dragged herself up once more and walked slowly toward the door, she tried to remember if she’d told Lucas she loved him that morning before leaving for the office. They’d shared a light kiss. That part she remembered vividly, as always.
Tears brimmed on her lashes and the ache deepened in her chest. They hadn’t had nearly enough time together. She’d made him wait so very, very long.
And Jim? When they’d spoken by phone last night, had she told him how very much she loved him? Or Jamie, her sweet little granddaughter?
Victoria hoped that was the case.
She might never get the opportunity again.
Chapter Four (#ulink_cf64950d-f229-55e5-b082-44c1c925d7c5)
Treamont condo complex, 9:20 a.m.
Mia Dawson checked her reflection in the mirror once more. She could do this. No matter that he was most likely on to her.
She could do it.
No one else had the level of access she did. If she failed to get this done…then he would just get away with his crimes.
It was her duty as a citizen of Chicago—as a human being—to see that he was stopped. And she owed it to her cousin to ensure justice prevailed.
Mia took a deep breath, moistened her lips and strengthened her determination.
There was no one else. It had to be her.
Grabbing her purse and keys on the way to the front door, she pushed aside the fear and reached for the door. She could do this.
A fist pounding on the slab of wood shook the doorknob in her hand.
She blinked, resisted the impulse to draw back a step. It wouldn’t be him or one of his men. She was on her way to his home now. He would much rather carry out any confrontation on his own turf.
Just check the security peephole and see who it is.
Mia leaned forward and took a look. A tall man with blond hair stood on the other side of her door. A frown furrowed her brow. She’d never seen this man before. She squinted, looked again. No, he was a stranger. Knowing her boss, he could have hired someone new just for this job.
Taking care of the enemy.
She swallowed back the uncertainty, deliberately slowed her breathing. “Who is it?” No point in pretending she wasn’t home. If he’d been sent to take care of her, he would know she wasn’t at work and that her car remained in the underground parking garage.
“I’m Investigator Slade Convoy. I have a few questions for you related to your work with former district attorney Timothy Gordon.”
Holy hell. She searched her brain, tried to reason what his statement meant. Seemed damned coincidental that an investigator would show up at her door at precisely this moment.
“Do you have some ID?” IDs could be faked, but asking felt like the right thing to do. He would surely expect her to ask.
The man shoved a credentials case close to the peephole. The case was open so that the identification card was displayed.
The Colby Agency. Private Investigator Slade Convoy.
The Colby Agency. The name rang a bell. She’d heard it at some point. Maybe on a case her boss had prosecuted. Maybe from a defendant. She stiffened her posture and demanded, “Why would you want to talk to me? Who sent you?” The latter was the far better question. If he told the truth.
“Ma’am, I really don’t want to do this in the hallway. The subject matter is sensitive.”
Ah, he avoided the important question altogether. Getting inside was his objective. “Who did you say sent you?” she repeated, though he hadn’t said at all.
“Victoria Colby-Camp, the head of the Colby Agency.”
That name sounded familiar as well. “Is there a way I can verify that?”
Impatience etched across his face. “You can call my supervisor. His name is Ian Michaels.” To her surprise, the man rattled off a number.
Mia chewed her bottom lip. What the hell? She fished her cell phone from her purse and entered the number.
After the first ring, a male voice uttered, “Michaels.”
She cleared her throat. “This is Mia Dawson. There’s a man at my door. His…name is Slade Convoy. He claims he represents your agency.”
This made no sense! He could have given her any number. No matter what this Ian Michaels said, he could be lying as well. She wasn’t thinking.
“Ms. Dawson, it would mean a great deal to the Colby Agency if you allowed Mr. Convoy to ask you a few questions. I can’t divulge the nature of the situation, as you might well imagine. But your assistance is greatly needed and would be genuinely appreciated.”
She had to be out of her mind to even consider opening the door. “I’m sorry, Mr. Michaels, but you and Mr. Convoy are asking me to open my door to a complete stranger. I’m certain you can understand how unwise such a move would be.”
“I do understand, Ms. Dawson.” He paused. “I don’t want to frighten you, but this is a matter of life and death. Without your help, fifteen people stand to lose their lives.”
Good Lord. How did she say no to that? Would anyone go that far to gain access to her when all he had to do was wait for her in the basement near or inside her vehicle? “All right. I’ll…talk to him.” Michaels thanked her before she disconnected. She had to admit that he sounded genuinely sincere.
Mia peered out the security hole once more. “Mr. Convoy, remove your jacket, please, so that I can see whether or not you’re armed.”
The man rolled his eyes but acquiesced to her demand. He removed the lined leather coat he wore and dropped it to the floor. Then he held up both hands, surrender style, and turned all the way around so that she could ensure there was no weapon tucked into his waistband.
When he faced the door again, he dropped his arms to his sides. “Satisfied?”
Another moment of hesitation lapsed before she relented and opened the door. He stood before her, taller than he’d looked through the tiny hole. One more deep breath. “How can I help you?”
He gestured to the room behind her. “Surely you can understand how I wouldn’t want to have this discussion in a public corridor like this.”
No way was this man getting her alone inside her condo. “Since I don’t know the nature of your business, I’ll have to disagree. What can I do for you, sir?” She’d made all the compromises so far—time for him to make one.
Tension started to throb in his square jaw. If he was one of her boss’s thugs, he was damned good-looking. She gave herself a mental shake. What the hell was wrong with her?
“Fine.” The tightening of his lips warned that he wasn’t happy. “The Colby Agency is investigating Mr. Gordon. I’m hoping you can clear up a couple of things for us before we make a wrong step. Whatever you tell me will be completely off the record. No one will connect any of it back to you.”
Interest stirred. Gordon was being investigated? This was the first she’d heard of that. “What sort of investigation?”
Convoy glanced around. “I’m sorry.” He shook his head. “I just can’t talk about this in the open like this. You’re going to have to trust me.”
Anticipation nudged her. This could be the break she’d been hoping for. All she had to do was take the risk. She reached into her purse and removed her pepper spray, rested her forefinger on the trigger. “Come in.” Stepping back, she opened the door wider.
Convoy picked up his coat and crossed her threshold. She hadn’t noticed until then that he wore cowboy boots. Faded jeans and a striped button-up shirt. Other than the pricy jacket he didn’t exactly look like any high-class investigator she’d ever met. And if she recalled correctly, the Colby Agency was no low-rent P.I. shop.
Keeping her finger ready on the trigger, Mia closed the door and turned to her visitor. “What is the nature of your investigation?”
“Our client,” he began, “has requested a face-to-face with Mr. Gordon.”
Mia shrugged. “Gordon has a secretary. I’m certain a simple phone call is all you’d need to set up an appointment for your client.” Mia wasn’t the man’s secretary. She’d been his personal assistant for two years, had the rest of this month to go and then they were done. A tingle of fear shimmered through her. Less than one month to go to get what she needed. She was so close, but close wouldn’t cut it. The evidence had to be in her possession before she made her next move.
And that all depended upon whether or not he was on to her extracurricular activities.
Convoy glanced around the room. “I’m afraid the usual route for this sort of thing won’t work. Our client wants this meeting off the record as well.”
A new kind of fear reared its ugly head. “What does that mean?” Good grief, she’d been so fired up to get the goods on Gordon, she very well may have walked into a trap. But what kind of trap? What was the Colby Agency after? Who was this client he kept referring to?
His gaze, the shade so intensely green that it made her quiver, zeroed in on hers. “I’m going to cut right to the chase, Ms. Dawson.”
“That would be nice.” She braced, mentally and physically.
“We have a hostage situation at the Colby Agency. Contacting the authorities is out of the question. If I don’t bring Gordon in for this little tête-à-tête, then folks are going to die. I have only a few hours to accomplish that task.”
Mia hadn’t seen anyone else in the corridor outside her door. This man was alone. No cameras. No audio recorders visible. He was unarmed, for heaven’s sake. Yet, this had to be some kind of scam or setup. It was too bizarre to be real. Mia Dawson had never believed in coincidences.
Not to mention what he was talking about was kidnapping. A felony.
“O-kay.” She felt her gaze narrow. “What’s going on here? I don’t know what you’re up to, but you can tell me the truth now or I’m calling the police.” Her free hand went instinctively to her cell phone while her forefinger settled more fully on the pepper spray trigger. This game was over.
“Wait.” He held up both hands as she produced her cell. “I’m telling the truth,” he urged. “I don’t know what else to say to convince you, but this is not a scam or a joke. It’s real and people are going to die.”
Maybe if he hadn’t looked dead serious—or if she didn’t want to get her boss so badly—she wouldn’t have hesitated.
Could she really have gotten so lucky that an avenue to execute her plans had fallen right into her lap?
“You want me to believe you?” She hiked up her chin in defiance of the skepticism simmering beneath the hope. “Take me to the Colby Agency and let me hear this from someone besides a voice on the telephone.”
His hands dropped impotently to his sides once more. “That’s the one thing I can’t do.” That unsettling gaze pierced hers once more. “The truth is, ma’am, I could have waited for you in your little hybrid in the garage. I could have taken you by force. But I’m giving you the opportunity to do the right thing on your own.”
Her head was moving from side to side in protest before he completed the discourse on how this was the best for her. “If you need my help to do something that’s clearly illegal, then you’re going to have to show me that the stakes are as you say.” She wasn’t stupid. This guy had to be out of his mind if he thought she was going to go along with this crazy plan without some sort of tangible proof.
He thought about her demand for a moment, that tension still keeping a furious rhythm in his jaw. “Going to the agency is impossible. That’s where the hostages are being held. But I can take you to the temporary command center we’ve set up.”
“Who’s holding the hostages? If someone wants a face-to-face with Gordon, it must be an old enemy of his.” That was the only plausible explanation. As much as she wanted to see the scumbag go down, she would not be responsible for turning him over to some recently released criminal he’d once prosecuted. She was already only weeks from being without a job, she wasn’t going to make tracks to prison as well. The unemployment line was unpalatable enough.
Slade Convoy was the one shaking his head now. “We don’t know the answer to that question just yet. Our people, what’s left of them, are attempting to determine the source of the threat. Right now we have no choice but to accede to the demand given. Time is not on our side.”
This was one of those moments… when a woman had to decide if she was going to take an obvious leap of faith for what she believed in or just allow an opportunity to pass right on by.
This man…Slade Convoy…and the agency he represented didn’t have to know about her own agenda. This could actually work to her benefit. “I suppose that’s reasonable.” She had to be a lot desperate or a little crazy to go along with this. But she knew Gordon better than anyone else. She might even be able to help with determining who was behind this takeover. “I can also give you a list of the cases he has prosecuted the past couple of years. Your threat may be coming from one of those.”
The relief that flashed in the investigator’s eyes was palpable. “I’ll inform my superior that we’re on our way.”
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Debra Webb
Colby Lockdown
Debra Webb
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
Table of Contents
Cover (#ua8836c11-3774-534b-a7d6-20948c555dd7)
Title Page (#u4a75e377-2091-510b-8ecf-61449021be2a)
About the Author (#ulink_094aa92d-351e-58e6-8aee-513723bc039e)
Chapter One (#ulink_90f635bd-2196-517d-bb01-c92a1b6bce64)
Chapter Two (#ulink_89d7a8ff-9164-596d-ba86-005cbbe887a2)
Chapter Three (#ulink_a2cd3d04-397b-5c0b-b7d8-0b48cf525e22)
Chapter Four (#ulink_6592f335-093f-5e39-8c68-d22299306507)
Chapter Five (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fourteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fifteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Sixteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Seventeen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eighteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Nineteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty (#litres_trial_promo)
Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)
About the Author (#ulink_e9c7515b-0dd1-55bd-863e-f5c732a252ae)
DEBRA WEBB was born in Scottsboro, Alabama, to parents who taught her that anything is possible if you want it badly enough. She began writing at the age of nine. Eventually, she met and married the man of her dreams, and tried some other occupations, including selling vacuum cleaners, working in a factory, a daycare center, a hospital and a department store. When her husband joined the military, they moved to Berlin and Debra became a secretary in the commanding general’s office.
By 1985 they were back in the States, and finally moved to Tennessee, to a small town where everyone knows everyone else. With the support of her husband and two beautiful daughters, Debra took up writing again. In 1998, her dream of writing for Mills & Boon came true. You can write to Debra with your comments at PO Box 64, Huntland, Tennessee 37345, USA or visit her website at www.debrawebb.com to find out exciting news about her next book.
Dear Reader,
This year marks a special anniversary for the Colby Agency: ten years of breathtaking suspense in Intrigue! AS a special treat for the many, many loyal readers, the Colby Agency will be presented to you in an unparalleled six-book series, UNDER SIEGE. Here’s a peek of what’s to come!
Colby Lockdown—The Colby Agency is under siege from an unknown enemy. For the first time in Colby history, the infamous Equalizers and the most trusted investigators of the agency must come together as a team.
Colby Justice—A mock trial will determine the fate of one member of Chicago’s seedy streets. One man will act as judge and executioner. The head of the Colby Agency is trapped amid that nightmare. Her investigators and the Equalizers have one chance and only twenty-four hours to salvage the situation…
Colby Control and Colby Velocity—These two back-to-back installments follow the edge-of-your-seat challenges of the cases facing the Colby Agency while Jim Colby and his Equalizers merge into day-to-day operations. Watch out for them in March 2011!
Colby Holiday and Colby New Year—As the UNDER SIEGE series comes to a close, the shake-up at the Colby Agency has settled. The Equalizers have meshed fully with the Colby Agency. The dangerous cases to come will require the expert skills and uncanny instincts of this newly formed staff.
So read on! You’ll find the Colby Agency only at Mills & Boon® Intrigue. For news about the Colby Agency and more, check out my website, www.DebraWebb.com.
Enjoy!
Debra Webb
Victoria Colby-Camp has stood alone at the helm of the Colby Agency for more than two decades. She survived the abduction of her son, her only child, and the brutal murder of her husband. Despite the pain and the numerous efforts of her enemies, she held her ground and remained steadfast. After years of loneliness, she fell in love with the one man who knew her better than she knew herself—Lucas Camp. She survived the return of her son. Opened her heart to the savage man he had become and helped him heal.
After twenty long years of not knowing if her son was dead or alive, her family was whole again. A grandchild brought new joy and gave Victoria hope for the kind of happiness she had not dared to dream of in the past. Yet a woman whose agency has helped hundreds locate loved ones, find resolution to their dilemmas and obtain happiness makes more than a few enemies along the way—as her beloved first husband did in his life and as her only son has done in his. Just last year a threat to Victoria’s granddaughter shook her to the core.
In true Victoria fashion, she and her venerable staff at the Colby Agency stamped out the evil that threatened. Victoria will never allow evil to triumph as long as she is breathing.
But how much longer will she continue breathing? The Colby Agency is under siege…turn the page and begin the first of six Intrigue books that will reveal the fight for survival.
Chapter One (#ulink_6ec871d2-ff51-502b-9223-ccb56dca4203)
Colby Agency, Chicago Monday, January 20, 7:45 a.m.
“Victoria.”
Victoria Colby-Camp looked up from the Monday-morning briefing agenda she had prepared and smiled for the investigator waiting in her open door. “Good morning, Nicole. Did you have a nice weekend?”
Nicole Reed-Michaels moved across the office and settled into a chair in front of Victoria’s desk. “I did, indeed.” Nicole’s lips slid into a pleasant upward tilt. “Ian and I discussed the possibility of a vacation this year.” Her gaze searched Victoria’s. “One that doesn’t include the children.”
“Ah,” Victoria said, understanding now, “a second honeymoon.” Ian and Nicole had been married for nine years. Two children, both school age, and their work had been the couple’s focus for nearly a decade. It was past time the two took some alone time for themselves. Victoria was more than a little pleased to learn this news. “No one deserves it more.” She didn’t have to say that she knew this from experience. Victoria had long denied her own needs for her work and her family. “That’s excellent news. Do you have a particular destination or time frame in mind?”
Nicole relaxed fully into her chair. Before coming to work at the Colby Agency she had served with the Federal Bureau of Investigation. No one should be fooled by her silky blond hair or that tall, runway physique. Nicole Reed-Michaels was not only extremely intelligent, but she was also an expert marksman and she knew how to take down an assailant with her bare hands. She was one of the agency’s very best investigators. Not to mention she was married to Ian Michaels, Victoria’s longtime second-in-command.
Another of those warm smiles appeared, emphasizing the tiny laugh lines that were the only indicators of age on Nicole’s otherwise flawless face. “The Caribbean, I think. We’re still discussing when and for how long.”
“Two weeks,” Victoria suggested, “at least.” Before long she and Lucas would need to take a nice, indulgent vacation. They’d celebrated their sixth anniversary recently. It was time.
Last summer Victoria’s son, Jim, had taken an exciting vacation to Africa with his wife, Tasha. It seemed everyone was taking vacations… except Victoria.
Yes, it was well past time.
A stifled scream echoed beyond Victoria’s open door, hauling her attention there. Both she and Nicole were on their feet immediately.
“What was that?” Nicole whirled toward the sound.
Before Victoria could round her desk, Mildred burst into the office. “You’ve forgotten your salon appointment,” she urged Victoria. “You must go now!” Her eyes were wide with fear.
Nicole and Victoria’s gazes met briefly even as they rushed across the room.
Both knew what that seemingly silly phrase meant.
Danger had descended upon the Colby Agency. Victoria had to leave via the stairwell next to her office.
Now.
But what about Nicole? Mildred? And the others?
“Go,” Nicole reaffirmed as she paused in the doorway. “I’ll take care of things here.”
Victoria hesitated.
“Go,” Mildred repeated.
Fear expanded in Victoria’s throat even as her heart threatened to rupture from her chest. She hurried through the small private lobby where Mildred greeted Victoria’s appointments, opened the door to the stairwell in the narrow corridor beyond and flung herself through it.
Dear God. How could she leave everyone else behind? She should go back…assess the threat.
What was happening?
Don’t think, Victoria ordered.
Go!
Her staff would need her to get through this. She couldn’t help anyone with whatever situation was unfolding if she allowed herself to be overtaken. Whatever was going on…she had to escape.
Victoria hurried downward as fast as she dared. She ticked off a mental list of what she would do as soon as she was clear of the building.
Call Ian. He was off duty today. Having just completed an assignment, he had the mandatory forty-eight hours off.
Of course she would call Lucas. He had arrived home only last night from a four-daylong business trip to D.C. An hour ago she’d left him poring over the newspaper and drinking coffee. He might even be on his way here by now. He usually dropped by the agency every day that he was home.
And Jim. Dear God, she had to call her son.
Then the police.
Victoria couldn’t be sure if Mildred had had time to activate the silent alarm system that would notify the authorities.
The agency’s security system was state-of-the-art. As was the entire building’s for that matter. Why hadn’t the security guards alerted her to the threat? Both men had been at their posts in the lobby when she arrived half an hour ago.
“Good morning, ma’am.”
Victoria drew up short as she reached the landing on the second floor. Only one more floor to go…but she wouldn’t make it.
Dread congealed in her stomach.
The man dressed in black, including a ski-type mask to keep his face hidden, held a weapon aimed directly at her chest.
“We should return to your office, Mrs. Colby-Camp,” he said quite cordially. “I’d hate for you to miss the opening act of the show.”
Fury whipped through Victoria, taming her fear and stiffening her spine. “What the hell do you want?”
“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves now.” He gestured with the weapon for her to get moving. “Back up the stairs, ma’am.”
Determination instantly replaced the dread, fueling the fury building inside her. “Not until you tell me what you want and who you are.”
The evil bastard had the gall to laugh. “You’ve been in this business a long time, Victoria. I’m certain you’ve been faced with all kinds of situations and all sorts of people.” Those vile lips split into a grin. “I’ll bet that on occasion you’ve even run in to someone you really wish you hadn’t messed with….” His gaze bored into hers, relaying just how little he cared whether she lived or died. “Well, that someone is me.”
Chapter Two (#ulink_c906d86c-a340-58c3-9a41-a36e0f812ecb)
7:57 a.m.
He was going to be late this morning.
Slade Convoy didn’t actually have to be at work today, but the excitement of closing another case had to be shared. And no one understood that better than his colleagues at the Colby Agency.
His last case had been a tough one. A missing child and dysfunctional parents. The agency had been contacted by the child’s paternal grandparents. Seven days missing, the child was presumed by many to be dead. Slade himself had had his doubts about finding her alive.
A triumphant smile slid across his lips. But he’d found her, very much alive. Right where her bipolar mother had hidden her.
The child was back with her father under the supervision of loving grandparents. All was right in their world once more.
The story had to be shared. He had to bask in the glory of victory with the folks who had become his family. The only family he’d ever had, really.
Slade shook off the ugly thoughts and focused on maneuvering the Magnificent Mile. As a kid he’d never imagined that one day he would work in the area. He’d considered himself lucky to have a decent meal before bedtime each night.
Life was good…now.
He appreciated every single moment.
His cell vibrated as he slowed for a traffic signal. He tucked his fingers into his pocket and fished out the phone.
He glanced at the screen and immediately recognized Ian Michaels’s number. Ian was his boss. One of them anyway. Ian and Simon Ruhl were at the top of the Colby Agency food chain. Victoria ran the show, but never without the input of those two.
Slade slid the phone open. “What’s up?” Strange, Slade thought, that Ian would call at this hour. Ian had bragged that today he intended to do something special with his kids.
“We have a situation.”
Ian Michaels wasn’t one to mince words and his tone was always calm and reserved. The man never lost his cool. Never raised his voice. And never, ever backed down or sugarcoated anything. He was about as soft as an eight-pound sledgehammer. But Slade could tell from Ian’s tone something was wrong.
Slade shifted his foot to the accelerator as the light changed to green. Whatever the situation, it was bad. Very bad.
“A situation?” Slade returned.
“Meet me at Maggie’s across the street from the agency. I’ll be waiting on the second floor.”
“I’m close. Be there in a sec,” Slade assured him. The connection ended so he slid the phone closed and tucked it back into the pocket of his jeans as he scouted for a parking slot on a side street. Maggie’s Coffee House had once been a ritzy restaurant that had slowly shifted focus over the years to become a street-level café. The second floor of the artsy coffeehouse that had once been a private dining room was now used mainly for storage.
Why the hell would Ian be waiting there?
After parking his four-wheel-drive truck, Slade double-timed it up the sidewalk toward the front entrance of Maggie’s. He hesitated when he saw a familiar face heading in the same direction from the street.
“Lucas?”
Lucas Camp stopped, one hand on the door leading into Maggie’s. “Convoy,” the older man acknowledged, obviously not surprised.
This was getting more bizarre by the moment. Lucas was Victoria’s husband, but he wasn’t on the staff of the Colby Agency. Slade hustled over to the door. “What’s going on?”
Lucas shook his head. “I don’t know the details yet. Ian asked that I meet him here ASAP.” A glimpse of worry flashed in the man’s eyes before he moved forward, leading the way through the door. At the hostess’s questioning look, Lucas gestured toward the stairs beyond the serving counter. She nodded as if she understood exactly what was going on.
Slade sure as hell wished he knew what was going on as he climbed the stairs behind Lucas. Well into his sixties, Lucas was damned fit, but he’d lost a leg in a long-ago war and the prosthesis he wore slowed him down a bit. But Lucas Camp didn’t need any sympathy from Slade or anyone else. The man could be lethal when the need arose. He’d worked numerous deep-cover operations with the CIA for years. Even since retiring he still returned to D.C. monthly to advise the agency on the best way to conduct upcoming operations.
On the second floor, the big single room was cluttered with boxes of paper goods. Across the room near the windows overlooking the Mag Mile, Ian Michaels waited. He turned to face the new arrivals and there was no mistaking the grim expression he wore.
Whatever was going down, it was bad.
“What’s going on, Ian?” Lucas demanded as he and Slade weaved their way through the stacks of boxes.
“Jim is on his way,” Ian advised, avoiding a direct answer to the question.
Slade stared at the building across the street as he neared Ian’s position. His gaze zeroed in on the windows of the floor where the Colby Agency suite of offices should have been buzzing with activity. It was Monday morning after all. From the outside the situation appeared to be like any other snowy January day. No smoke billowing, no shattered glass, no official emergency vehicles in the vicinity of the building. What could be wrong?
“That’s good,” Lucas said in response to Ian’s statement regarding Jim, “but that doesn’t answer my question.”
Ian shifted his attention to the windows of the Colby Agency offices Slade still surveyed. “At seven forty-five this morning, a group of armed men dressed as SWAT agents laid siege to the agency and everyone inside.”
“That’s…crazy….” A chill penetrated deep into Slade’s bones. Mondays were early days. The weekly briefing. Not only was Victoria—Lucas’s wife and the head of the agency—in there, but so was every single member of the staff except for Slade and Ian…including Ian’s wife, Nicole.
“How many men?” Lucas asked the question before Slade could gather his wits and utter the same.
With an uncharacteristic shake of his head, Ian turned once more to face them. “I don’t know for certain. Nicole managed to get a call through to my cell but she was cut off before…” He swallowed with difficulty. “Before she could fully assess the situation. She mentioned five, then seven. But there could be more.”
The same terror humming beneath Ian’s tone had claimed the usually unreadable expression on Lucas’s face. “Was Nicole aware of any injuries?”
“She didn’t get a chance to relay anything more.”
“The security guards on duty have most likely been neutralized,” Slade suggested, now visually measuring the front entrance. He hoped no one had been killed but there was always that possibility. Anyone else from the businesses housed on the other floors who might have opted to go into work early that morning had likely been taken prisoner or were dead. “We should call LSS and have them issue a warning to stay clear of the building.”
LSS, Lockdown Security Systems, were the folks in charge of the building’s physical security.
“That was going to be my next—”
“That was the first call I received this morning,” Ian said, cutting off Lucas. “LSS called to inform me that the building was in lockdown mode due to a gas leak and no one was to enter until the all clear was given. Before I could question the directive or pass along that the agency already had people inside, Nicole’s call came in.”
Lucas surveyed the building in question once more. “I don’t see any official vehicles. No city maintenance crews.”
“I assume the so-called leak was a ploy to enact lockdown. I’ve had no further word from LSS so I have to assume someone is running interference there.”
Ian was right. Whoever had set this game in motion had done their homework. “Have you called the Chicago P.D.?” Slade asked. Since there were no cruisers in the vicinity he imagined the answer was no, but Ian could certainly have informed one of the agency’s many contacts within Chicago P.D. to come in dark. The real SWAT folks could be on standby out of sight.
“That’s not a move I want to make until I fully comprehend the terms of this situation.”
Understandable. Until the terms were known, their hands were tied to a great degree.
“What’s happening, Lucas?”
All three turned as Jim Colby crossed the room. The man hadn’t made a sound on the stairs. Slade never ceased to be impressed by Victoria’s son. He’d been trained as a mercenary as a boy. Could kill a man in mere seconds with nothing but his bare hands. As tall and muscled as he was, he could still move as stealthily as any predator of the jungle.
Lucas quickly explained what little Ian knew at this point. The fury that started to throb in Jim’s temples warned that he would not stand by and wait for terms. Slade wanted to act as well. But, as Ian had shown already, this was the time for patience and levelheadedness. Jim Colby possessed neither.
“I’ll assemble my team,” Jim announced. “We’ll move in within the hour.”
Jim ran a private investigations shop. But his staff worked around the law more often than not. They called themselves the Equalizers. In sharp contrast, the Colby Agency maintained a stellar reputation, going to great lengths to cooperate fully with law enforcement. Victoria and Jim didn’t see eye to eye on the way business was to be conducted.
“No.”
The single syllable echoed in the silence that followed. Only two men on this planet had the guts to stare Victoria’s son in the eye and tell him no: Lucas Camp and the one who’d just said the word—Ian Michaels. This was about to get hairy.
“If we’re not going in,” Jim growled, his gaze narrowing with the rage climbing inside him, “then what are you suggesting we do?”
“We do nothing,” Ian said flatly, “until we know what the terms of this takeover are. Any step we take might be the wrong one. We wait for the man in charge to make his demands.”
Jim walked two steps away, his hands planted on his hips, apparently to regain some measure of control. Or maybe to mentally pull together an entrance strategy.
Lucas took a breath. “Jim,” he said as calmly and quietly as could be expected under the circumstances, “Ian has a valid point. We have to think tactically here. Allowing an emotional reaction could cause more harm than good.”
Jim glared at his stepfather, then at Ian. “Reacting is not my specialty. This calls for action. Now.” He said the last with a pointed stare at Ian. “Waiting will only allow the intruders to gain a stronger foothold.”
Ian’s grim expression remained in place as he held the other man’s lethal glare. “I am Victoria’s second-in-command. I am and will continue to be in charge. We will proceed with caution.”
Jim reclaimed the steps he’d taken, putting him toe-to-toe with Ian. “Victoria is my mother. We’ll do things my way. No negotiations.”
Slade shared a look with Lucas. The circumstances were sensitive to say the least. Both men were strong-willed and each had a legitimate point. But, as a staff member of the Colby Agency, Slade’s alliance had to be with Ian. Jim was operating solely on emotion. Bad business at a moment like this.
Lucas stepped between the two men, forcing both to take a much-needed step back. “Everyone in this room has a vested interest in how this turns out.” He glanced at Jim, then at Ian. “We will all remain calm and we will lay out a proper strategy. There will be no going in blind or taking unnecessary risks before we have a single detail to go on.”
Slade relaxed marginally. If anyone could control this out-of-control moment, Lucas could.
The chirp of a cell phone shattered the tense silence.
Ian reached into the pocket of his suit jacket and pulled out his cell. “Michaels.”
A muscle throbbed in Jim’s hard-set jaw. Lucas stared hopefully at Ian. Slade waited, also hoping that this would be some kind of news. A first move.
Time was slipping by. Every second that lapsed could be one that may have been pivotal to saving one or more lives. The lives of people Slade knew and cared for deeply. Whatever happened, in all probability the Colby Agency would never be the same.
“Yes,” Ian said, “I understand.” He drew the phone from his ear and touched the screen. “As requested, you are on speakerphone.”
Adrenaline moved through Slade’s veins.
“Fourteen staff members as well as Victoria Colby-Camp are now my hostages,” the male voice announced. “All communications inside the building, including the Internet, cell phones and landlines, have been disabled. The building is stalled in lockdown mode and under my control. No one gets in or out. If anyone tries, the hostages will die. If the authorities, local or federal, are contacted, the hostages will die.”
No one made a sound or even breathed. The distant hum of conversation and coffee mugs sliding across tables and counters from below were the only sounds.
“Are you prepared to issue your demands for the release of the hostages?” Ian inquired with amazing calm and self-assurance.
Jim looked away, the fury now visibly pulsing across his brow.
“There are only two.”
Only two. Great, Slade mused.
All four men waited for the harsh nightmare to become a stone-cold reality.
“Former District Attorney Timothy Gordon will be brought, by whatever means necessary, to the front entrance of the building. This demand is nonnegotiable.”
Now Slade got the picture. This wasn’t about the Colby Agency at all. It was about one of Chicago’s most prestigious political figures.
“Is it your intent to exchange the hostages for Gordon?” Ian asked, his tone still incredibly calm.
“I have two demands, Mr. Michaels,” the man said, his voice equally calm and absolutely firm. “When you have met this first demand, we will discuss the status of the hostages as well as the next step.”
“This is Lucas Camp,” the oldest of those gathered in the storeroom asserted. “Before we go any further, we will need proof of life. And a detailed listing of the physical condition of all hostages.”
The caller made a sound, not really a laugh but something on that order. “We have three injuries, none life-threatening. But, Mr. Camp, if you’re asking about the condition of your wife, she is indeed among the injured.”
Jim swore loudly. Ian and Lucas shot him a glare. Slade moved to Jim’s side, placed a hand on his arm and urged him with his eyes to stay calm. The slightest wrong move or comment could set off a chain reaction no one wanted.
“Under the circumstances,” Ian offered, “we must demand that you release the injured hostages before we proceed with negotiations.”
The sound that echoed in the air was an outright laugh this time. “Mr. Michaels, this is a one-way negotiation. You will bring Gordon to the front entrance. As I’ve already explained, we will discuss the release of the hostages at that point and not a moment sooner.”
“You,” Jim warned, stepping forward, “have made a grave mistake. Release the hostages now and we’ll forget this ever happened. Refuse and you have my word that your life will never again be your own.”
“You have sixty seconds to agree to this demand.”
Shock throbbed in the silence that followed.
“If you do not agree to this demand in the next fifty-five seconds,” the voice demanded when no one responded, “one of the hostages will die.”
“This is—” Ian began.
“Fifty seconds,” the man on the phone interrupted. “Another hostage will die with each minute that passes after that.”
More of that choking silence.
“Forty seconds, gentlemen. Perhaps I’ll start with one of the females.” There was a muffled sound followed by the caller shouting to one of his cohorts, “Bring me the deaf woman. I doubt anyone will really miss her.”
Slade held his breath. Dear God…
“We will do everything in our power,” Ian said, shattering the tension, “to meet your demand.”
“Not good enough, Michaels,” the voice warned. “Thirty seconds.”
“How long do we have to bring Gordon to you?” Jim roared.
Ian looked from Lucas to Jim as if he wanted to argue, but fear for his wife as well as the others kept him from voicing his concerns.
“Twenty-three hours and nineteen minutes. You will deliver D.A. Gordon to the front entrance of the building by seven forty-five tomorrow morning or everyone dies. And I do mean everyone.”
“He’ll be there,” Jim announced. “You have my word.”
“Remember, gentlemen,” the voice cautioned, “any contact with the authorities, any attempts to gain entrance to the building, and everyone dies.”
“You have my word,” Jim repeated without reservation. “Gordon will be there on time as requested. We will cooperate fully with all your terms.”
“Excellent. I’m always relieved when no one has to die. But,” the man added, his voice pulsating with pure evil, “I will without remorse execute one hostage after the other until they’re all dead if the need arises. My men will disappear as quickly and untraceably as they appeared. Just like smoke. Do we understand each other?”
“Perfectly,” Jim stated.
The connection was severed. Ian immediately started entering numbers on the keypad of his cell. Jim stopped him. “What’re you doing?”
“Determining if I can track the call back to a traceable number.”
Jim snatched the cell out of his hand. Fury glistened in Ian’s eyes.
“We will contact no one,” Jim told him in no uncertain terms. “We will deliver Gordon just as he requested.”
Again Lucas intervened. “Convoy will get to work on rounding up Gordon,” he suggested. “Ian and I will attempt to get to the bottom of who’s behind this takeover.”
“And my people,” Jim said, “will determine if there is a way inside without detection.”
Three, then five seconds of traumatic silence elapsed.
“Agreed,” Ian said, capitulating.
“Agreed,” Lucas chimed in.
All three looked to Slade. He held up his hands. “I’m ready to do whatever needs to be done.”
“Good.” Jim set his formidable attention on Slade. “Find Gordon. Bring him in.”
Not exactly the easiest job he’d ever been assigned. “What if he doesn’t want to cooperate?” Slade felt the question was a legitimate one.
“Do whatever is necessary,” Jim told him. “Just get him here.”
Slade hesitated to see if Ian would object. When he didn’t, Slade shrugged. “No problem.”
Chapter Three (#ulink_c21ab457-1556-5790-962b-7c69e0a21387)
Inside the Colby Agency, 8:50 a.m.
Victoria tightened her lips against the moan that welled in her throat. Her head throbbed and nausea roiled in her stomach.
She couldn’t show the first sign of weakness. The others were depending upon her.
All fourteen of her staff members had been shoved into the conference room. Two others were injured as well. Thankfully none appeared to be life-threatening.
“Victoria.”
She drew in a deep breath and forced a calm into her voice that she by no means felt. “I’m all right,” she assured Nicole. “We’re all going to be all right. I’m certain Ian, Lucas and Jim are doing all within their power to regain control of the situation.”
Merri Walters most likely had a mild concussion, at the very least a contusion. Victoria ached for the woman. Unable to hear the approach of the bastards who had taken control of the Colby Agency, Merri hadn’t reacted rapidly enough. She’d gotten a brutal whack to the back of the head for the delay. But she was coherent and, mercifully, showed no outward signs of serious trouble.
Fury vibrated through Victoria. Whatever these animals wanted, they would be sorry they had chosen the Colby Agency as their target.
She would see to that. Somehow.
Nicole glanced at Merri and the others huddled around her. “She seems okay.” Her attention shifted to the newest investigator on the Colby staff, Kendra Todd. The swelling and bruises on her face reminded all the others that back talk would not be permitted. “But I’ll need to keep an eye on Kendra. She isn’t accustomed to being pushed around.”
Several of the men, Ted Tallant and Trinity Barrett in particular, had their share of swelling, bruises and scrapes for having attempted to fight off the attack while the rest, Victoria included, ran for exits.
Their captors had been prepared for just such a diversion. Both fire exits had been covered and the elevators had been locked down.
“You monitor Kendra and help Simon with the others,” Victoria agreed. “I’m going to see if I can learn the shackled prisoner’s identity.” He was the one unknown variable in this equation.
Nicole’s gaze followed Victoria’s to the man on the other side of the room. He’d been dragged into the conference room and shackled to a chair as far away from Victoria’s staff as possible within the confines of the same four walls. A cloth sack covered his face and head, and his plain gray sweatshirt and worn jeans gave no indication of who he was or where he’d come from. The generic sneakers he wore had seen far better days. There was nothing about his appearance or his bearing that gave the slightest impression of who he was. He hadn’t attempted to speak or escape, which could mean he was either gagged or drugged. Not that escape was an option considering the way his ankles and wrists were bound together and his waist was manacled to the chair. His head drooped forward as if he were in fact unconscious.
“His guard doesn’t look too friendly,” Nicole commented under her breath.
That much was true. The guard wore black like all the others, including the concealing ski mask. The weapon in his hand indicated he didn’t trust anyone enough to holster it. Though all visible beyond the mask were his dark eyes, that glimpse into his psyche warned that he wasn’t taking any chances or any grief.
“The least I can do is try,” Victoria insisted as she struggled from her position on the floor to her feet. Her head swam. She braced against the wall to steady herself. She’d made the mistake of struggling with the two men who had escorted her to this room. Being made an example of wasn’t a surprise—she’d expected as much. Her attackers had wanted to ensure all present realized that Victoria was no longer in control. Several of her staff members had gotten roughed up when they’d attempted to come to her aid. All the more reason she had to tread carefully. Her staff would be taking their cues from her.
Their safety depended a great deal on her every action.
Even as the thought echoed in her brain, she slowly crossed the room toward the shackled man and his personal guard. She’d already spotted the tracks of dried blood down the front of his sweatshirt. He no doubt needed medical attention the same as she did and many of her staff members.
“Back on the floor,” the man with the gun ordered. He shifted the business end of his weapon in her direction to reinforce his order.
Victoria halted. “He’s bleeding.” She gestured to the mysterious prisoner. “I just want to check to see that he’s not seriously injured. He may need medical attention.”
The guard scoffed. “He’ll be dead soon enough. Any injuries he sustained are inconsequential.”
Victoria refused to flinch. “Surely you don’t mean to deprive us of proper care for our injuries, and some water.” She indicated the door on the other side of the room. “There’s bottled water and coffee in the lounge across the hall. And first-aid supplies.” If someone made a run for it, it couldn’t be her. She would not leave a single member of her staff behind. Perhaps Nicole would be allowed to go across the hall. She could attempt an escape if the opportunity presented itself.
This very minute Lucas, Ian and Jim would be planning how to resolve this takeover. These bastards had no idea how lucky they would be to survive the coming battle.
“Sit down,” the guard ordered. “Or—” he shifted his aim toward the others huddled around Merri “—one of them dies.”
Victoria backed up a step. “Fine. I’ll sit.” She couldn’t take the risk that he might not be bluffing. “But you, sir, should think about how to keep your hostages from further harm. We’re no good to you unless we’re alive.”
His glare was his only response.
The unidentified prisoner was apparently unconscious. She hadn’t heard a moan or any other sort of sound from him. If he’d been awake and aware of himself, he would surely have tried to communicate as Victoria had questioned the guard about him.
As she settled on the floor near the members of her staff, she and Nicole exchanged a look of defeat.
No. Victoria refused to be defeated. Not by these men. Not by anyone. True, she had lost that battle, but she wasn’t through by a long shot.
Simon Ruhl, one of her most trusted investigators and one of her seconds-in-command, kept one arm around Merri as she leaned against his shoulder. He flashed a ghost of a smile at Victoria. She understood what the gesture meant. They would be okay. Lucas, Ian and Jim would not fail. They would find a way to neutralize the hostiles. Simon’s confidence affirmed her own.
All Victoria and her people had to do was remain patient and cooperate with these infiltrators. This day, this nightmare, would soon be reversed. The most brilliant minds on the planet were working together.
The conference room door abruptly flew inward. All eyes swung to the man loitering in the open doorway.
“You,” the man who appeared to be in charge said to Victoria, “come with me.” It was impossible to tell him apart from the others except for his voice. His accent said he wasn’t an American by birth. Perhaps he was of European ancestry.
Simon and several others braced to defend Victoria, but she signaled with a small shake of her head for them to stand down.
Whatever happened to her, the most important thing was for the others to remain safe. To survive.
As Victoria dragged herself up once more and walked slowly toward the door, she tried to remember if she’d told Lucas she loved him that morning before leaving for the office. They’d shared a light kiss. That part she remembered vividly, as always.
Tears brimmed on her lashes and the ache deepened in her chest. They hadn’t had nearly enough time together. She’d made him wait so very, very long.
And Jim? When they’d spoken by phone last night, had she told him how very much she loved him? Or Jamie, her sweet little granddaughter?
Victoria hoped that was the case.
She might never get the opportunity again.
Chapter Four (#ulink_cf64950d-f229-55e5-b082-44c1c925d7c5)
Treamont condo complex, 9:20 a.m.
Mia Dawson checked her reflection in the mirror once more. She could do this. No matter that he was most likely on to her.
She could do it.
No one else had the level of access she did. If she failed to get this done…then he would just get away with his crimes.
It was her duty as a citizen of Chicago—as a human being—to see that he was stopped. And she owed it to her cousin to ensure justice prevailed.
Mia took a deep breath, moistened her lips and strengthened her determination.
There was no one else. It had to be her.
Grabbing her purse and keys on the way to the front door, she pushed aside the fear and reached for the door. She could do this.
A fist pounding on the slab of wood shook the doorknob in her hand.
She blinked, resisted the impulse to draw back a step. It wouldn’t be him or one of his men. She was on her way to his home now. He would much rather carry out any confrontation on his own turf.
Just check the security peephole and see who it is.
Mia leaned forward and took a look. A tall man with blond hair stood on the other side of her door. A frown furrowed her brow. She’d never seen this man before. She squinted, looked again. No, he was a stranger. Knowing her boss, he could have hired someone new just for this job.
Taking care of the enemy.
She swallowed back the uncertainty, deliberately slowed her breathing. “Who is it?” No point in pretending she wasn’t home. If he’d been sent to take care of her, he would know she wasn’t at work and that her car remained in the underground parking garage.
“I’m Investigator Slade Convoy. I have a few questions for you related to your work with former district attorney Timothy Gordon.”
Holy hell. She searched her brain, tried to reason what his statement meant. Seemed damned coincidental that an investigator would show up at her door at precisely this moment.
“Do you have some ID?” IDs could be faked, but asking felt like the right thing to do. He would surely expect her to ask.
The man shoved a credentials case close to the peephole. The case was open so that the identification card was displayed.
The Colby Agency. Private Investigator Slade Convoy.
The Colby Agency. The name rang a bell. She’d heard it at some point. Maybe on a case her boss had prosecuted. Maybe from a defendant. She stiffened her posture and demanded, “Why would you want to talk to me? Who sent you?” The latter was the far better question. If he told the truth.
“Ma’am, I really don’t want to do this in the hallway. The subject matter is sensitive.”
Ah, he avoided the important question altogether. Getting inside was his objective. “Who did you say sent you?” she repeated, though he hadn’t said at all.
“Victoria Colby-Camp, the head of the Colby Agency.”
That name sounded familiar as well. “Is there a way I can verify that?”
Impatience etched across his face. “You can call my supervisor. His name is Ian Michaels.” To her surprise, the man rattled off a number.
Mia chewed her bottom lip. What the hell? She fished her cell phone from her purse and entered the number.
After the first ring, a male voice uttered, “Michaels.”
She cleared her throat. “This is Mia Dawson. There’s a man at my door. His…name is Slade Convoy. He claims he represents your agency.”
This made no sense! He could have given her any number. No matter what this Ian Michaels said, he could be lying as well. She wasn’t thinking.
“Ms. Dawson, it would mean a great deal to the Colby Agency if you allowed Mr. Convoy to ask you a few questions. I can’t divulge the nature of the situation, as you might well imagine. But your assistance is greatly needed and would be genuinely appreciated.”
She had to be out of her mind to even consider opening the door. “I’m sorry, Mr. Michaels, but you and Mr. Convoy are asking me to open my door to a complete stranger. I’m certain you can understand how unwise such a move would be.”
“I do understand, Ms. Dawson.” He paused. “I don’t want to frighten you, but this is a matter of life and death. Without your help, fifteen people stand to lose their lives.”
Good Lord. How did she say no to that? Would anyone go that far to gain access to her when all he had to do was wait for her in the basement near or inside her vehicle? “All right. I’ll…talk to him.” Michaels thanked her before she disconnected. She had to admit that he sounded genuinely sincere.
Mia peered out the security hole once more. “Mr. Convoy, remove your jacket, please, so that I can see whether or not you’re armed.”
The man rolled his eyes but acquiesced to her demand. He removed the lined leather coat he wore and dropped it to the floor. Then he held up both hands, surrender style, and turned all the way around so that she could ensure there was no weapon tucked into his waistband.
When he faced the door again, he dropped his arms to his sides. “Satisfied?”
Another moment of hesitation lapsed before she relented and opened the door. He stood before her, taller than he’d looked through the tiny hole. One more deep breath. “How can I help you?”
He gestured to the room behind her. “Surely you can understand how I wouldn’t want to have this discussion in a public corridor like this.”
No way was this man getting her alone inside her condo. “Since I don’t know the nature of your business, I’ll have to disagree. What can I do for you, sir?” She’d made all the compromises so far—time for him to make one.
Tension started to throb in his square jaw. If he was one of her boss’s thugs, he was damned good-looking. She gave herself a mental shake. What the hell was wrong with her?
“Fine.” The tightening of his lips warned that he wasn’t happy. “The Colby Agency is investigating Mr. Gordon. I’m hoping you can clear up a couple of things for us before we make a wrong step. Whatever you tell me will be completely off the record. No one will connect any of it back to you.”
Interest stirred. Gordon was being investigated? This was the first she’d heard of that. “What sort of investigation?”
Convoy glanced around. “I’m sorry.” He shook his head. “I just can’t talk about this in the open like this. You’re going to have to trust me.”
Anticipation nudged her. This could be the break she’d been hoping for. All she had to do was take the risk. She reached into her purse and removed her pepper spray, rested her forefinger on the trigger. “Come in.” Stepping back, she opened the door wider.
Convoy picked up his coat and crossed her threshold. She hadn’t noticed until then that he wore cowboy boots. Faded jeans and a striped button-up shirt. Other than the pricy jacket he didn’t exactly look like any high-class investigator she’d ever met. And if she recalled correctly, the Colby Agency was no low-rent P.I. shop.
Keeping her finger ready on the trigger, Mia closed the door and turned to her visitor. “What is the nature of your investigation?”
“Our client,” he began, “has requested a face-to-face with Mr. Gordon.”
Mia shrugged. “Gordon has a secretary. I’m certain a simple phone call is all you’d need to set up an appointment for your client.” Mia wasn’t the man’s secretary. She’d been his personal assistant for two years, had the rest of this month to go and then they were done. A tingle of fear shimmered through her. Less than one month to go to get what she needed. She was so close, but close wouldn’t cut it. The evidence had to be in her possession before she made her next move.
And that all depended upon whether or not he was on to her extracurricular activities.
Convoy glanced around the room. “I’m afraid the usual route for this sort of thing won’t work. Our client wants this meeting off the record as well.”
A new kind of fear reared its ugly head. “What does that mean?” Good grief, she’d been so fired up to get the goods on Gordon, she very well may have walked into a trap. But what kind of trap? What was the Colby Agency after? Who was this client he kept referring to?
His gaze, the shade so intensely green that it made her quiver, zeroed in on hers. “I’m going to cut right to the chase, Ms. Dawson.”
“That would be nice.” She braced, mentally and physically.
“We have a hostage situation at the Colby Agency. Contacting the authorities is out of the question. If I don’t bring Gordon in for this little tête-à-tête, then folks are going to die. I have only a few hours to accomplish that task.”
Mia hadn’t seen anyone else in the corridor outside her door. This man was alone. No cameras. No audio recorders visible. He was unarmed, for heaven’s sake. Yet, this had to be some kind of scam or setup. It was too bizarre to be real. Mia Dawson had never believed in coincidences.
Not to mention what he was talking about was kidnapping. A felony.
“O-kay.” She felt her gaze narrow. “What’s going on here? I don’t know what you’re up to, but you can tell me the truth now or I’m calling the police.” Her free hand went instinctively to her cell phone while her forefinger settled more fully on the pepper spray trigger. This game was over.
“Wait.” He held up both hands as she produced her cell. “I’m telling the truth,” he urged. “I don’t know what else to say to convince you, but this is not a scam or a joke. It’s real and people are going to die.”
Maybe if he hadn’t looked dead serious—or if she didn’t want to get her boss so badly—she wouldn’t have hesitated.
Could she really have gotten so lucky that an avenue to execute her plans had fallen right into her lap?
“You want me to believe you?” She hiked up her chin in defiance of the skepticism simmering beneath the hope. “Take me to the Colby Agency and let me hear this from someone besides a voice on the telephone.”
His hands dropped impotently to his sides once more. “That’s the one thing I can’t do.” That unsettling gaze pierced hers once more. “The truth is, ma’am, I could have waited for you in your little hybrid in the garage. I could have taken you by force. But I’m giving you the opportunity to do the right thing on your own.”
Her head was moving from side to side in protest before he completed the discourse on how this was the best for her. “If you need my help to do something that’s clearly illegal, then you’re going to have to show me that the stakes are as you say.” She wasn’t stupid. This guy had to be out of his mind if he thought she was going to go along with this crazy plan without some sort of tangible proof.
He thought about her demand for a moment, that tension still keeping a furious rhythm in his jaw. “Going to the agency is impossible. That’s where the hostages are being held. But I can take you to the temporary command center we’ve set up.”
“Who’s holding the hostages? If someone wants a face-to-face with Gordon, it must be an old enemy of his.” That was the only plausible explanation. As much as she wanted to see the scumbag go down, she would not be responsible for turning him over to some recently released criminal he’d once prosecuted. She was already only weeks from being without a job, she wasn’t going to make tracks to prison as well. The unemployment line was unpalatable enough.
Slade Convoy was the one shaking his head now. “We don’t know the answer to that question just yet. Our people, what’s left of them, are attempting to determine the source of the threat. Right now we have no choice but to accede to the demand given. Time is not on our side.”
This was one of those moments… when a woman had to decide if she was going to take an obvious leap of faith for what she believed in or just allow an opportunity to pass right on by.
This man…Slade Convoy…and the agency he represented didn’t have to know about her own agenda. This could actually work to her benefit. “I suppose that’s reasonable.” She had to be a lot desperate or a little crazy to go along with this. But she knew Gordon better than anyone else. She might even be able to help with determining who was behind this takeover. “I can also give you a list of the cases he has prosecuted the past couple of years. Your threat may be coming from one of those.”
The relief that flashed in the investigator’s eyes was palpable. “I’ll inform my superior that we’re on our way.”
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Debra Webb
Тип: электронная книга
Жанр: Современная зарубежная литература
Язык: на английском языке
Издательство: HarperCollins
Дата публикации: 16.04.2024
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О книге: Colby Lockdown, электронная книга автора Debra Webb на английском языке, в жанре современная зарубежная литература