Heiress Recon
Heiress Recon
Carla Cassidy
Heiress Recon
Carla Cassidy
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
Table of Contents
Cover (#u0c28d5e2-5ddf-52c5-909d-4a49cd6b6e79)
Title Page (#u8e5fb252-ab3b-5cdd-86ed-74a7cad37cd4)
About the Author (#u416a6ffb-7ad2-520f-86be-26917409e8e2)
Prologue (#u4f4cfaa2-222b-54aa-8cc7-80dd1845b876)
Chapter One (#u4f854da7-3510-53c1-b792-255875ad67c9)
Chapter Two (#ud8486b66-e50c-5d46-8172-163c32250105)
Chapter Three (#ue9d96b14-aa40-57c9-bea6-dda70fb4228b)
Chapter Four (#litres_trial_promo)
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)
Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)
About the Author
CARLA CASSIDY is an award-winning author who has written more than fifty books. In 1995, she won Best Mills & Boon® Romance from Romantic Times Bookreviews for Anything for Danny. In 1998, she also won a Career Achievement Award for Best Innovative Series.
Carla believes the only thing better than curling up with a good book to read is sitting down at the computer with a good story to write. She’s looking forward to writing many more books and bringing hours of pleasure to readers.
Prologue
The music in the club pulsed inside Brianna Waverly as she made her way toward the bar. Following close at her heels was her bodyguard, Curt McCain. The man was as big as a house, making her feel even more diminutive than her five-foot height.
As she threaded her way through the throng of people her name was called from here and there. “Bree! Over here!”
She turned to see one of Hollywood’s up-and-coming actresses waving wildly at her. She grinned and waved back but continued her trek forward.
Curt hated the nights she decided to go clubbing, complaining that it was difficult to discern between normal Hollywood types and freaks. But the people she met in the clubs were the same she’d talk to later about making a donation to her animal shelter in Kansas City. Networking was nothing if not a fine art, and Bree had made something of a living at it.
The bartender grinned at her as she reached him. “The usual?” he asked.
She nodded. The usual was a club soda with a twist of lime. While most of the others around her got drunk and stupid, Bree stayed clearheaded and smart.
Curt stood several feet away from her, the glare on his bulldog face enough to keep any sane person away. She’d told him a million times that he took the job too seriously. Mostly she needed him to navigate her through a crowd of eager paparazzi bent on getting a photo of heiress and party girl Bree Waverly.
With drink in hand, Bree turned and surveyed the scene. Everyone who was anyone eventually wound up at Oscar’s at the end of a long night of partying. The club was the newest, hottest scene in Hollywood.
Lights flashed and swirled on the dance floor, splashing the gyrating bodies with vivid color. She took a sip of her drink and tried to find the joy, the heart-pounding excitement that used to possess her whenever she entered one of these places. But the joy wasn’t there. Lately, nothing in Hollywood made her happy.
She’d just as soon be back in her villa, wearing her nightgown and working on the last of the details for the upcoming adoption day at the Kansas City shelter.
A scream from behind pulled Brianna from her thoughts. Before she could turn around to see the cause, Curt yelled her name and threw himself at her. She crashed backward and down, vaguely aware of people screaming. As her head connected with the floor, she saw the spinning lights of the dance floor inside her brain—then nothing.
Chapter One
“I want you to repossess my daughter.”
Troy Sinclair stared at the man who had uttered the words, wondering if Brandon Waverly had lost his mind. “Excuse me?”
Brandon leaned back in the overstuffed chair at the huge mahogany desk. Behind him the wall was decorated with framed photos of him with the mayor of Kansas City and other dignitaries, not only locally but also nationally known.
Brandon Waverly was a wealthy, successful real estate developer and builder in the Kansas City area and a close friend of Troy’s father, but at the moment none of that mattered to Troy as he wondered just when Brandon had gone crazy.
“Sir, Recovery Inc. isn’t into repossessing people,” Troy began, then paused as Brandon waved a hand to stop him from whatever he had been about to say.
“I know your company gets back boats and planes and whatever else people decide not to pay for, but I also know there are times when you aren’t exactly orthodox in your business practices and you go above and beyond for a worthy cause. My daughter is a worthy cause.”
Brandon leaned forward, his blue eyes filled with a torment Troy couldn’t begin to understand. “Perhaps I used the wrong word. What I want you to do is take my daughter someplace safe for a couple of days.”
“And why would I want to do that, sir?” There was no question that Troy was intrigued even though he didn’t want to be. Troy had only met Brianna Waverly once, when he’d been fifteen years old and she’d been ten.
He remembered little about her other than she’d been a pretty little girl with big blue eyes and pale blond hair, but now everyone “knew” of Bree Waverly, Hollywood party girl and a favorite target of the paparazzi.
Troy had no desire to have anything to do with Brianna Waverly, no matter what the circumstances. Still, he would give Brandon the respect of letting the man finish what he had to say.
“As you might know, I’m in the middle of a huge project,” Brandon explained. “I’m developing a new mini-mall on some property north of town. Unfortunately not everyone has been happy to see it going in. We’ve just started construction, and we’ve already had some vandalism and threats from people who don’t want to see retail stores in the middle of farmland.
“There’s a meeting planned for Wednesday night, a meeting at which I hope we’re going to mend some fences. I’m offering some concessions to the residents that I hope will move things forward, but in the meantime it all has suddenly gotten particularly ugly.”
He opened the top drawer of his desk and pulled out a manila envelope. “I received this at my home this morning.” His thick fingers shoved the envelope toward Troy. “Go on, open it.”
Reluctantly Troy unfastened the flap and pulled out the contents. There were a total of five photos cut from a popular tabloid. Each depicted the lovely Brianna Waverly doing what wealthy heiresses do best—going into a popular club, getting out of a limo, sipping a cocktail and sticking out her tongue at a photographer.
The only thing remarkable about the photos was the stunning beauty of the woman and the bright red, angry X slashed through each one. There was no doubt that the pictures were intended as some sort of threat.
The photo captions were as provocative as the woman. MIDWEST HEIRESS DRINKS UNTIL DAWN. BEAUTIFUL BREE AND HER BODYGUARD. WAVERLY HEIRESS WALKS THE WILD SIDE.
Troy felt a sinking sensation in the pit of his stomach. “Isn’t your daughter in California? That’s a long way from your problems here.”
Brandon pulled yet another tabloid from his top drawer. Troy stared at the headline. BEAUTIFUL BREE ATTACKED, BODYGUARD STABBED.
“This happened two nights ago at a club called Oscar’s. Curt, Brianna’s bodyguard, was stabbed but the intended victim was Brianna. He’s still in the hospital and doing just fine. Meanwhile Brianna is arriving here in town this afternoon for a two-week visit,” Brandon replied with a frown. “I’m afraid somebody went after her to get to me, and I’m worried about her being here unprotected. Please, Troy. I’m begging you as a friend of your father’s, as one ex-Navy brother to another.”
Troy sighed. He didn’t want to do this, but he knew he was going to, because Brandon was an old family friend and because he’d served his country with distinction years ago as a Navy seaman. As an ex-Navy SEAL, Troy couldn’t turn his back on the man.
“How exactly is this going to work?” he finally asked, ignoring the gut instinct that told him he was about to make a huge mistake.
THE MEETING LASTED for another hour, then Troy left the downtown Waverly offices and headed to the north side of town where his company, Recovery Inc., was located.
The early September air still held the heat of summer, but he scarcely noticed the temperature as his head whirled with everything Brandon had asked of him. Brandon Waverly hadn’t lost his mind, but obviously Troy had when he’d agreed to be a part of the madness.
The Recovery Inc. office was housed in a strip mall, flanked by a pizza place on one side and a beauty shop on the other.
Boredom, he thought as he drove. That’s part of what had driven him to agree. Business had been slow the last month after some bad publicity had been generated from a mess his partner, Micah Stone, had gotten into. The mess had been cleaned up, and Micah had found the love of his life, but the residual effect had been that things had been far too quiet the last couple of weeks.
He thought of the photos he’d just seen of Brianna Waverly. There was no question that she was beautiful, but she reminded him of somebody from his past and those memories were ones he rarely visited because they hurt too much.
If he was lucky, one of his partners would talk him into calling Brandon and telling him he’d changed his mind. He parked in front of the business, a surge of pride swelling in his chest as he saw the discreet sign that read Recovery Inc.
Three years ago when he and two of his Navy SEAL buddies had opened the business, they’d never dreamed of how successful they’d become. For Troy the success was particularly welcome because he’d done it on his own, without his family money.
As he entered the office he found Micah and Lucas in their usual places—Lucas sprawled on the tasteful sofa, and Micah reared back in the chair at his desk.
“I see you’re both hard at work,” he said dryly.
Lucas sat up and stretched with arms overhead, the motion tugging his T-shirt up to expose his flat, tanned abdomen. “I might look like I’m half-asleep, but actually my mind is whirling to solve all the world’s problems.”
Micah snorted. “Yeah, and occasionally for the last hour or so, I’ve actually heard the snoring sounds his mind makes when it works.”
Troy grinned and walked across the room to his desk. “I just left Brandon Waverly’s office, and he has a job for me,” he said.
“I hope it’s something exciting,” Lucas replied.
“It’s a one-man job. He wants me to take his daughter, Brianna, and put her someplace safe for a couple of days.”
Micah frowned. “Brianna Waverly. Isn’t that Bree Waverly?”
Troy nodded and Lucas released a low whistle. “That is one hot woman.”
“Yeah, if shallow and plastic is your type,” Troy replied. He told them everything that Brandon had said and about the clippings the man had received earlier that morning.
“How does he know it isn’t some garden-variety California freak who sent the clippings and tried to get to her in the club?” Micah asked. “Any creep might have developed some kind of fixation on Bree Waverly. It happens all the time in Hollyweird.”
“Brandon seems fairly certain that the threats are directed at him because of the shopping mall project he’s involved with at the moment.” Troy leaned back in his chair, wishing one of them would tell him the whole idea was stupid. “But he thinks they’ll try to hurt his daughter to get at him.”
“There’s always the safe house,” Micah suggested. “You could take her there.” The safe house was a farmhouse north of the city proper that the company owned to be used for just these kinds of jobs.
“Or if you want to get her out of town, I’ve got that little fishing cabin south of here. It would be a perfect place to stash her for a few days,” Lucas said. “I haven’t been there this year so the windows are boarded up and it’s probably dusty as hell. You know it’s close quarters, and it’s sure nothing fancy.”
That was an understatement. In truth the cabin was downright rustic. A woman like Bree Waverly, who was accustomed to the finest things and the world revolving around her axis, would probably take one look around and break out in hives.
Troy wasn’t sure why that particular thought gave him a bit of pleasure.
Lucas shrugged. “Compared to some of the jobs we’ve had, this sounds easy enough. All he’s asking of you is that you be a glorified babysitter for a couple of days.”
Lucas was right. It sounded easy enough. So why were all of Troy’s instincts screaming at him to run as far away as fast as possible from this particular job?
BRIANNA WAVERLY was happy to be home. Even though she’d lived in Hollywood for the past six years, Kansas City, Missouri, was the place she thought of as home, and after the events of the last couple of days, she was even happier to be here.
There were times when it was hard for her to believe that the daughter of a Kansas City developer had become a “name” in Hollywood. All it had taken was her showing up at some of the hot spots and catching the eyes of several paparazzi. Suddenly her pictures had been in the tabloids and the girl from Kansas City was a star.
She stood in front of the full-length mirror in her childhood bedroom to check her appearance one last time before going downstairs for dinner.
She would have preferred a quiet evening spent with just her father and her stepmother, Heather. But the minute Brianna had walked through the front door, Heather had informed her that Brianna’s father had invited a business associate to join them for dinner.
Tucking a strand of her long, straight blond hair behind her ear, she turned away from the mirror. She’d been hoping to have a little time alone with her dad this evening to tell him of the life-altering decision she’d made, but as she looked at the clock on the nightstand she realized she’d probably have to wait until the next day for the heart-to-heart chat.
She smoothed a hand down the front of the designer dress she’d bought the day before and thrown into her suitcase at the last minute. The little black number was sinfully short and fit her slender curves as if it had been designed specifically for her. The label would impress Heather, and Brianna’s father would predictably ask what animal had eaten the lower half of her skirt.
Knowing that it was getting close to mealtime, she left her bedroom and went downstairs to search for Heather. She found the attractive redhead seated in the formal living room sipping a glass of wine.
“There you are,” she said as Brianna entered the room. “Your father is upstairs changing for dinner, and I’m expecting Troy to show up any moment. Nice dress.”
“Thanks. Troy?” Brianna walked over to the bar and poured herself a glass of the wine that Heather had opened.
“Troy Sinclair, Grace and Lyle’s son,” Heather replied.
Brianna sank down on the love seat opposite Heather. “Troy Sinclair. I haven’t seen him since I was a kid.” She hadn’t seen him in years, but she remembered him. At ten years old she’d had a huge crush on the boy with the blond hair and the gunmetal-gray eyes. “He’s working for Dad now?”
Heather shrugged her bone-thin shoulders. “I guess so. You know I don’t pay any attention to your father’s wheeling and dealing. Now, tell me all about what’s going on in your life.”
Her mother had died when Brianna was ten, and her father had married Heather eight years ago. Brianna had just turned twenty-one; Heather had been thirty.
It had been Heather who had encouraged Brianna to head to California and enjoy her youth, beauty and financial freedom while she could. Heather loved the gossip magazines, and in a bid to please the woman who was now her father’s wife, a young and naive Brianna had left Kansas City with the goal of becoming one of the women her stepmother seemed to admire.
It had only been in the last couple of years that Brianna had recognized that her stepmother might have had an ulterior motive for urging Brianna out of the nest and halfway across the country. With Brianna gone, Heather could have her husband’s attention all to herself.
The two had only been talking a few minutes when Brandon swept into the room. “There she is!” He held out his arms to Brianna, who instantly jumped up to greet him.
Hugging her father had always been as comforting as hugging her favorite teddy bear, and this time was no different. He wrapped her up and gave her a smacking kiss on the forehead, then released her.
“Did the seamstress forget to add the skirt to that blouse?” he asked gruffly.
She smiled and touched his cheek with her fingers. “I’ve missed you, Dad.”
“I’ve missed you, too. Are you doing all right?” His sharp blue eyes gazed at her intently. “Curt doing okay?”
She nodded. “I spoke to him right before I got on the plane. They’re going to release him in the next day or two.” She fought a shiver as she thought of the attack in the club.
Brandon frowned and said, “I can’t believe they didn’t catch the person responsible.”
“It all happened so fast. When I spoke to the police yesterday they said they couldn’t get a credible witness statement. According to the people they interviewed in the club, the man who attacked me was a tall blonde, a short bald man and a burly dark-haired man.”
“She’s safe and she’s here now,” Heather said. “Let’s just put that unpleasantness behind us.” Before she could say anything else the doorbell rang.
“Ah, good. That will be Troy,” Brandon said. As he left to greet the houseguest, Brianna sat up straighter in her chair. It would be interesting to see what kind of man the boy had grown into.
Hot. That was the first word that popped into her head as Troy Sinclair entered the room at her father’s side. His buzz-cut blond hair emphasized lean, elegant features. His broad shoulders, slim hips and long legs were a perfect display form for the dark-blue suit he wore.
Living in Hollywood, Brianna was accustomed to seeing handsome men, but Troy Sinclair radiated an energy that warmed her and sent butterflies dancing in the pit of her stomach. Her reaction to him shocked her. It had been a very long time since any man had made her particularly pleased to be a female.
“Troy, it’s nice to see you again,” she said. The warmth that had momentarily swept through her vanished as she met his gaze. His eyes were as cold as a gray winter sky.
His head bobbed in a curt nod and he smiled, but there wasn’t any warmth behind it. “Nice to see you, too,” he said, then turned away from her as Brandon offered him a before-dinner drink. Okay, so the man was hot to look at and apparently very reserved. She sat back down on the love seat.
“We need to make a toast,” Brandon said and took Brianna’s glass from her. “I’ll fill this up for you. Troy, have a seat there next to my little girl.”
He smelled wonderful, Brianna thought as Troy sat close enough to her that she could feel the heat radiating from his body. A combination of clean male and a spicy cologne. “I understand you’re working for my father. What exactly is it that you do?” she asked.
“I’m an independent contractor,” he replied.
“Troy is helping me with a little issue that has come up with the mall development,” Brandon explained as he handed Brianna her glass. “And now a toast,” he exclaimed as he lifted his own goblet. “To Brianna’s visit home and the hope that she knows just how much her old man loves her.”
Brianna’s heart swelled as she smiled at her father, then took a sip of the drink he’d prepared. Robert, the cook, appeared in the doorway. “Dinner is served,” he announced.
Within minutes they were all seated in the dining room. The conversation was light and pleasant, but Brianna felt a simmering tension in the air.
She found herself studying Troy, who sat across the table. He was definitely eye candy and unfailingly polite, but she sensed a faint disapproval wafting from him each time he glanced her way.
“Brianna, honey, we need to have a serious talk,” Brandon said as they finished up the meal.
Brianna shot a quick glance at Troy, then looked back at her father. “Okay,” she said slowly. “A serious talk about what?”
“Troy isn’t just our dinner guest this evening. He’s here to do a very important job for me,” Brandon said. “I’ve hired him to take you someplace safe for a couple of days.”
“I am someplace safe. I’m home,” she exclaimed, wondering what in the heck was going on. “Dad, if this is about what happened at the club the other night—”
“It is, and it’s not,” Brandon interrupted her. “You know I’m starting work to build on the property next to Precious Pets—” she nodded and he continued “—and a lot of the neighbors aren’t happy about it. There have been some threats, and I’m worried for your safety.”
“And you think the attack the other night in the club might be about this?” It was difficult to believe that somebody who opposed a business deal in Kansas City would fly all the way to California to hurt her. But, it was equally difficult for her to believe that somebody had hated her enough to try to stab her.
“I think it’s possible,” Brandon replied. “I find it terribly coincidental that I get threats and suddenly somebody tries to stab you.” He leaned forward in his chair. “Just do me a favor. Go with Troy for a couple of days, give me some peace of mind.”
“A couple of days?”
Brandon nodded and said, “I hope the heat will die down after a meeting on Wednesday night. Four days, Brianna, that’s all I’m asking of you.”
With the memory of Curt’s stabbing so fresh in her mind and with her father’s worry shining from his eyes, there was no way she could protest. She’d do anything in her power for her dad, and four days underground couldn’t be that bad. “Okay, I’ll go with him.”
Once again she gazed at Troy, who had remained silent during this discussion. “Can you at least tell me where we’re going?” she asked.
“Don’t worry, I’ll see that you’re taken care of,” he replied and smiled. And this time there was just a hint of unexpected amusement in his gray eyes.
Chapter Two
They were in his car by seven-thirty that night and headed for the fishing cabin three hours away. Troy was tense, the muscles in his stomach bunched uncomfortably.
Brianna had looked pretty in her tabloid photos, but in person she was a knockout. Her eyes were bluer, her hair blonder and her features more delicate than any mere photograph could capture.
She was slighter than he’d thought, not tall but very slender. The sexy cocktail dress she wore should be considered a lethal weapon, he thought as he turned onto the highway that would take them south.
“Are we going to the Ozarks?” she asked with a touch of eagerness. “Maybe the Four Seasons? I love that place.”
Of course she would love the luxury resort with all its amenities. “No, we’re not going that far. We’re headed to a place owned by a friend of mine.” She smelled delicious and he fought the impulse to roll down his window in an effort to banish the appealing scent.
“I was afraid I was going to have to fight my way through a bunch of paparazzi to get to your dad’s front door this evening,” he said. “Kansas City must be pretty boring for somebody as accustomed to the limelight as you.” He heard the slight mocking tone in his own voice and knew it was an effort to distance himself from her.
“Oh, I’m sure I’ll manage to dredge up some dreadful publicity while I’m here,” she said with cheerful airiness.
“You won’t be dredging up any publicity for at least the next four days,” he replied.
“I have to be back in town by Saturday,” she said.
“Hot date?”
She crossed her legs. “Something like that,” she replied vaguely.
God, she had great legs, and he hated the fact that he’d noticed. He didn’t want to be attracted to her, didn’t want to find anything appealing about her in any way.
He knew her type. Spoiled and selfish, accustomed to people eager to please her, she was like dozens of other women Troy had known in his life, women he’d chosen to avoid as an adult.
Again he was struck by the scent of her perfume and he wished they were traveling in the airiness of a limo instead of the tight confines of his sports car.
She hid a yawn with the back of her hand.
“The Hollywood fast lane must be catching up to you,” Troy said, then felt the weight of her stare.
“You know, that’s the second or third thing you’ve said to me with a bit of a nasty undertone to your voice. I’m just trying to figure out if you work at being a jerk or it just comes naturally?”
By calling him out she surprised him. He shrugged. “It’s not anything I consciously work on,” he replied.
“That answers my question.” She flipped the air conditioner vent to blow more directly toward her face. “So tell me, is this something you do all the time? Play bodyguard?”
“No. I own a company, Recovery Inc. My two partners and I are in the repossession business.” He didn’t bother to tell her that they were high-stakes players who dealt only in high-stake issues.
“So, you repossessed me.”
“Temporarily,” he agreed.
“If you don’t normally do this kind of work, then why did you agree to do it for my father?”
“Because he’s a friend of my parents and because he used to be a Navy man.” Troy checked his rearview mirror. At this time of night there were few cars on the road, but he wanted to make sure they hadn’t been followed from the Waverly estate by the over-eager press or somebody with more nefarious ideas.
“And you were a Navy man?” she asked.
“Navy SEAL.”
“Ah, that explains it.”
He glanced at her, her features visible in the light from the dash. “Explains what?”
She flashed him a cheeky grin. “Your buff body.”
Troy couldn’t remember the last time he’d blushed, but her words filled his cheeks with unexpected heat. He had a feeling that these three hours in the car with her were going to feel like ten, and he didn’t even want to think about the next four days.
“Is there a Mrs. Repo Man sitting at home waiting for you?” she asked.
“No,” he replied, although he knew the kind of woman he eventually wanted in his life. She would be beautiful, but shy. She’d know the value of a dollar, but would have a giving soul. She’d be an ordinary woman, but extraordinary to him. It was an ideal that he had yet to find, but she was out there somewhere.
Thankfully, Brianna fell silent and stared out the passenger window. Unfortunately, she was only silent for a few minutes. “Do you believe my father’s theory that the person who tried to stab me is somehow connected to his business deal in Kansas City?”
“Who knows,” he replied. “I suppose anything is possible. Of course, it might have nothing to do with your father and instead might be a by-product of your lifestyle. Women like you sometimes get the attention of creeps.”
Once again he felt the weight of her glare. “Women like me?” She repeated the words in a slow and measured tone. “You don’t know me.”
“I know everything I need to know about you,” he replied.
A woman like Bree Waverly had been the cause of him joining the Navy when he was twenty-three years old. He had expected to marry her, but when a false rumor began swirling that his family had lost their fortune in a stock deal, she’d broken off the engagement. So instead of walking down the aisle, he’d walked into the nearest Navy recruitment office in an effort to forget Holly, the beautiful blonde who had broken his heart.
“Really? And what do you think you know about me?” Brianna asked.
Troy sighed. He wished he’d kept his mouth shut, but that had never been one of his strong suits. He was a straight shooter who rarely hesitated to speak his mind. “I know that you’re probably spoiled and love attention. I know that everything in your life has come easily to you. You probably drink too much and take drugs and don’t realize you’re a train wreck about to happen.”
She surprised him with a laugh. “Amazing,” she exclaimed.
“What?”
“It’s amazing that my father decided to have me repossessed by a judgmental, self-righteous jerk.” She laughed again. “This is going to be interesting, repo man. It’s definitely going to be interesting to see if we can spend four days together without one of us killing the other.”
With this pronouncement she lowered the back of her seat, turned her head to the side and closed her eyes.
SHE MUST HAVE fallen asleep because when Brianna opened her eyes again, the car had come to a stop. She put her seat up and looked around, but the night’s darkness prevented her from seeing exactly where they were. The headlights of the car were pointed toward a heavily wooded area but no other structure was visible.
“We’re here,” Troy said. “Why don’t you sit tight and I’ll go turn on some outside lights?” He opened the car door and got out.
She nodded as the last sleepiness fell away. She wasn’t sure what she’d been expecting when he’d told her they were going to a friend’s place, but this definitely wasn’t it.
As lights suddenly appeared, she stared with dismay at the little cabin tucked into the woods. Okay, maybe he was right. Maybe she was just a little bit spoiled because she found the idea of spending four days in this boarded-up, dilapidated place appalling.
Troy returned to the car and motioned her out as he opened the trunk. “Is there running water?” she asked, unable to keep her repugnance from her voice.
“Sure,” he replied cheerfully. “Although the water pressure leaves something to be desired.” He pulled her suitcase from the trunk and placed his smaller black duffle beside it. “I unlocked the front door.” He picked up his duffle and headed toward the porch, a jaunty energy in his step. He paused at the doorway and turned back to her. “Are you coming?”
She looked from him to the heavy suitcase she’d brought. “I’m coming,” she muttered and grabbed the suitcase handle.
He was enjoying himself, she thought as she dragged the case across the ground toward the porch. He’d judged and condemned her as a carefree, spoiled party girl who lived a life of luxury, and he liked the idea of bringing her to this place where she’d have to carry her own suitcase through the front door.
Buck up, she told herself. If this put her father’s mind at ease, then she could deal with anything for four days, even this crappy cabin and Troy Sinclair.
She huffed with the effort to pull the suitcase up the porch and inside the front door. He could have at least helped her through the door, she thought irritably.
The cabin wasn’t quite as bad on the inside as she’d expected. She entered a room that served as both kitchen and living room. The furniture was mismatched, as if it had been collected at a thrift store, and the kitchen appliances looked older than her. There were two other doors, one she presumed led to the bedroom and the other to the bathroom.
She dragged her suitcase toward the door she guessed was the bedroom. “I’m going to bed. I’ll see you in the morning,” she said. “Oh, and by the way, I like my breakfast around tenish.”
It was a great exit line meant to get under his skin. Unfortunately, she had pulled her suitcase into the bathroom. With as much dignity as she could muster, she left the bathroom and yanked the suitcase into the bedroom. She ignored his grin of amusement.
Although she expected sleep to be a long time coming in an unfamiliar bed and with the events of the day to mull over, sleep came as soon as she laid her head on the pillow.
SHE AWAKENED SLOWLY, first recognizing someplace in the back of her sleep-addled mind that the bed beneath her wasn’t her own. The second thing that came to her attention was the sound of melodic birdsong.
She cracked open an eyelid and stared at the rough-hewn wooden wall in front of her. There was a window directly ahead, but only slender slivers of sunshine danced around the boards that covered almost all of the glass.
The cabin. That’s right. She was in the middle of the woods in a cabin that belonged to Troy Sinclair’s friend. She was stuck here for the next four days with a man who apparently believed she was nothing more than what the tabloid headlines claimed her to be.
Slinging her legs over the side of the bed, she grabbed her robe and pulled it around her. Coffee. She could smell the fragrant scent in the air.
Quickly combing her hair with her fingers, she pronounced herself ready to tackle a big cup of java. She opened the bedroom door and instantly spied Troy sitting with his back to her at a small wooden table. At some point while she’d slept he’d removed the boards on the windows, and morning sunshine poured through the streaked glass.
“Ah, the heiress awakens. Coffee is on the counter. Unfortunately, the maid has the day off so you’ll have to help yourself.” These last words were said with a touch of mocking sarcasm.
“I suppose I can manage to make myself a cup of coffee, but anything more complicated than that is way beyond my capacity,” she replied as she walked across the room to the coffeemaker on the countertop.
She poured herself a cup of the brew, then sat at the table across from Troy. He looked as good this morning in a short-sleeved white shirt and jeans as he had the night before in his expensive suit.
“You brought me here on purpose, didn’t you? We could have gone to any resort in the country, hidden away in an expensive hotel, but you chose this place just to be difficult.”
For the first time, he smiled and the gesture warmed those gorgeous eyes of his. “I thought roughing it would be good for you, build your character. You know, no masseuse, no maid service, no cook.”
She took a sip of the coffee. “Ah, we’re back to the same thing. You don’t know anything about me, and you certainly don’t know anything about my character. I’m beginning to find you a bore, repo man.”
“I know everything I need to know about you, Bree.” He emphasized the name the press had given her.
She took another sip of coffee and eyed him over the rim of her cup. She found his instantaneous, obvious dislike of who he thought she was to be both intriguing and irritating.
She drained her coffee mug and stood, deciding that a shower and getting dressed for the day might make her feel better prepared to take on the next four days.
“I’m going to shower.” She walked halfway across the room, then turned back and smiled at him. “I like my eggs scrambled,” she said, then disappeared into the bathroom.
If he expected her to be a spoiled brat, then she could act like one. Minutes later she stood beneath a tepid spray of water, her mind flying over the events of the last couple of days.
She knew why it was so easy to exchange verbal insults with Troy; it kept her mind off the fact that her life had become horribly surreal since Curt had been stabbed. There was no question that the knife had been meant for her, that if Curt hadn’t acted quickly and taken the knife himself, she would have been wounded or worse.
She’d spent the night of the attack in the hospital with Curt, waiting while he had surgery to stitch up arm muscles that had been damaged by the cut.
It had almost been a relief for her father to tell her that she’d been threatened because of a business deal he was working on. Before he’d told her his suspicion, she’d been unable to imagine why anyone would want to harm her.
Hopefully, the meeting her father mentioned he had on Wednesday night would resolve this issue and she could get back to her life, a life that would no longer involve L.A. or the paparazzi.
Her life in California was always meant to be temporary. Her one true love was the Precious Pets Animal Haven she owned in Kansas City. She’d hoped to have a chance to tell her dad that she was moving back and taking over the day-to-day running of the business she loved.
She’d already told Mike Kidwell, her manager at the Haven, that she hoped to be working side by side with him in the next couple of weeks.
She shut off the shower and grabbed one of the thin towels to dry off. Hopefully, she’d be able to tell her dad the good news on Thursday. She knew he’d be thrilled with her decision.
In fact, she’d sold her dad part of the land where Precious Pets was located for his new mall. She hadn’t considered that her farmer neighbors would be up in arms over the plan for a retail area.
She dressed in a pair of jeans and a T-shirt that read BREE across the breasts, then brushed out her wet hair and left the bathroom.
Troy stood at the stove taking up crispy bacon. “If you do breakfast really well, I’ll see about letting you make me lunch and dinner, as well,” she said as she returned to her seat at the table.
He turned to look at her with narrowed eyes. “Don’t push your luck, Bree. I’ll do breakfast duty and you can do lunch. We can share dinner.”
She watched silently as he cracked eggs into a bowl and then scrambled them with a bit of milk. “The last time I saw you, you weren’t such a judgmental jerk. What happened since then to change you?” she asked.
“I didn’t change and I’m not particularly judgmental.” The toast popped up and he grabbed the pieces to butter. “You and I both come from the same background of privilege. Some of us take our wealth and the opportunities it provides us to build something positive with it. Others lead lives of excess and go nowhere.”
“And because you’ve seen a couple of pictures of me in the tabloids, you think you know all about me?”
He scooped up the eggs, prepared them each a plate, then set hers in front of her and joined her at the table.
“You aren’t as smart as you look, repo man.” She picked up a piece of the toast and took a bite, chewing thoughtfully as her gaze remained focused on him. “If you think those photographs that capture just a second of my life are the total sum of me, then you have a bigger problem than you realize.”
He released a small sigh. “Look, I think we’ve gotten off on the wrong foot. I don’t want to spend the next four days trading insults with you. I suggest a truce.” He held out his hand to her.
He had a nice hand, one that looked strong and capable. She grabbed it and was surprised by a rivulet of warmth that traveled up her arm. “Truce,” she agreed and quickly pulled her hand away.
For the next few minutes they ate in silence. She gazed out the window where the view was of tranquil isolation. Tall trees were grouped closely together with bushes and tall grass at their bases. In the distance the sun sparkled on a large body of water visible between the trunks of the trees.
Actually, four days here didn’t seem like such a horrible idea, but she didn’t want him to know that’s what she thought.
“So, what are we going to do to pass this time in this place?” she asked. “I don’t suppose you do manicures.”
“Give me a pair of clippers, and I’ll do the best I can,” he replied.
She winced at the very idea. “I think the only way we’ll get along is if you pretend to be my cabana boy and fix me cocktails and hors d’oeuvres.”
He grinned at her and said, “I’ll consider it after you put on an apron and pretend you’re my maid.” He eyed her curiously. “You know how to fish?”
“Actually I do. When I was little and it was just me and my dad, he’d take me to Smithville Lake and we’d sit on the dam and fish on Sunday afternoons. But I haven’t done it in years.”
“It’s like riding a bicycle, once you’ve mastered it you don’t ever forget how.”
Once again she glanced out the window. The idea of sitting on a bank with a line in the water was surprisingly appealing. She hadn’t realized how scared she’d been since the attack in the club until now, when she felt completely safe and protected by the man who sat across from her.
“How about you wash the dishes and I’ll dry?” she asked when they finished eating.
He looked at her in surprise. “That will work,” he replied.
Together they stood and carried their dishes to the sink. He’d just started running water when a cell phone rang. He quickly shut off the faucet and pulled the phone from his shirt pocket.
“Sinclair,” he said.
Brianna knew instantly that whoever was on the other end of the line was delivering bad news. Every muscle in Troy’s body stiffened and she could almost smell the burn of energy that wafted off him.
“Okay. All right. Just sit tight. I’ll be back in touch.” He hung up and stared at Brianna, and something in his look made her heart begin to beat an unsteady rhythm.
“What? Who was on the phone?” “That was your stepmother. Your father has been kidnapped.”
Chapter Three
“Kidnapped?” Brianna stared at him as if the word was as foreign to her as frying onions in a burger joint. “What are you talking about?”
The easy babysitting job had suddenly become more complicated. Troy fought the impulse to take her in his arms. She looked so fragile standing before him, her big blue eyes widened in horror.
“Heather said she got a phone call from someone who told her your father had been kidnapped.” He hesitated a moment, unsure how much to tell her, then opted for the whole truth. “The caller told her that if she goes to the authorities Brandon will be killed.”
Her gaze darted around his face, as if seeking a sign that this was all a bad joke. “Was there a ransom demand?” she finally asked.
Troy shook his head. “No. They just told Heather to keep her mouth shut if she wants to keep her husband alive.”
“You have to take me back. I need to get home.” She looked around wildly. “I’ve got to get my things together. I need to be with Heather. We need to find my dad.” A trembling overtook her as tears filled her eyes.
Troy stepped toward her and grabbed her shoulders, fearing she was about to spiral out of control. “Calm down,” he said. “I’ll take you back to Kansas City on one condition.”
“What condition?”
He released his hold on her shoulders. “The condition is that until we know exactly what’s going on, you stay with me in a safe house my company maintains in the city. It’s a farmhouse north of town, not far from where your father is building his mall.”
“Fine, whatever,” she replied.
“Okay, get your things and let’s get out of here.”
It took only minutes for the two of them to repack their bags, load them into the trunk of the car and get on the road.
“He thought I was the one in danger,” she said, her voice thin and filled with worry. “He protected me but he didn’t protect himself. Whatever the ransom, I’ll pay it. The kidnapper can have every dime I possess as long as he gives my father back unhurt.”
“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. We don’t know for sure that it’s about a ransom.”
She looked at him in surprise. “What else could it be about?”
He tightened his grip on the steering wheel and tried to ignore the tight nerves knotted in his stomach. The fact that the kidnapper hadn’t made a ransom demand worried him a lot, but he didn’t want Brianna to see his concern.
“Maybe it’s about the meeting your dad was supposed to have on Wednesday night,” he finally answered. “Maybe the kidnapper believes if Brandon can’t make that meeting, the mall development will suffer.”
“Maybe,” she replied, but he could tell by the dubious tone of her voice that she didn’t completely believe it. “But what would that accomplish? Eventually they’ll have to let him go.”
“We can’t really know what’s going on until we have more information,” he replied. He glanced at the clock on the dashboard. It was almost noon. They wouldn’t be back in Kansas City before three. Maybe by then Brandon would show up, and everyone would realize it had all just been a terrible mistake.
“Can’t you drive any faster?” she asked impatiently.
“It will slow us down considerably if I get pulled over for a speeding ticket. Just sit back and try to relax until we get you home.” He knew how ridiculous it was to tell her to try to relax, but there was nothing else to do at the moment.
“Maybe I should call Heather,” she said and dug into her purse to withdraw a sparkly cell phone.
“That probably isn’t a good idea,” he replied. “She’ll be keeping the line clear in case a ransom call comes in. She promised to call me if anything else happens.”
When she dropped the phone back in her purse and fell silent, Troy was grateful. He needed to think. He needed to figure out how to counsel Heather when they got to her house.
He believed, theoretically, that the proper authorities should be contacted when a crime was committed. But he’d never been faced with an actual situation like this.
What if he insisted that Heather call the cops and Brandon was then murdered? He’d have to live with the guilt for the rest of his life. He glanced at the woman beside him. Despite the fact that he believed she was incredibly spoiled and he didn’t agree with the way she lived her life, there was no question that she adored her father. Troy didn’t want to be responsible for taking Brandon away from his daughter.
He would feel better if they discovered Heather had received a ransom call when they reached her place. At least they would know that they were dealing with a criminal looking for a cash payday. It was much more problematic if a ransom call didn’t come in.
Brianna remained silent for the rest of the ride, and Troy couldn’t begin to guess what must be going through her head. What surprised him was that she wasn’t having hysterics. She wasn’t playing the drama queen.
As they pulled off the highway and into her neighborhood, she sat up straighter, her features taut with strain. “Maybe it’s all been a sick joke or some kind of a mistake.”
“Maybe,” Troy agreed, not having the heart to disagree with her. He knew that if that were the case, Heather would have let them know that Brandon was home safe and sound.
Brianna’s childhood home was a huge two-story mansion set on two acres of prime property. As Troy turned into the winding circle drive that led to the front door, the knot in his stomach twisted tighter.
On the outside nothing appeared amiss. No police cars were parked in the driveway, no news crews littered the lawn. Apparently Heather hadn’t called anyone for help yet.
Brianna was out of the car before he’d shut off the engine. He quickly parked, jumped out of the car and hurried after her.
“Heather!” she cried as she burst through the front door.
The redhead appeared in the doorway of the living room, her eyes swollen and red-rimmed as she twisted a tissue with her fingers. With a small cry, Brianna ran to her and the two women embraced.
“Thank God you’re here,” Heather said as she released Brianna. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to do. I’ve been afraid to do anything.”
“Have you heard anything else? Have you gotten any more calls? A ransom demand?” Troy asked.
“No. Nothing since the first phone call.” She motioned them into the living room.
“Have you contacted anyone else?” he asked once they were all seated.
“Only my sister. She’s going to be here in a couple of hours to stay with me.” Heather dabbed her eyes with the tissue. “And I called Brandon’s office to see if he was there, if maybe this is all just a terrible mistake, but his secretary told me he didn’t show up for work this morning.”
“How did this happen? Do you know where he was taken?” Brianna’s voice trembled slightly, and again Troy had the ridiculous desire to pull her into his arms and assure her that everything was going to be fine.
“Apparently somebody was waiting for him when he stepped out of the house this morning. You know your father, the first thing he does after getting dressed and ready for work is walk out to get the morning paper. That’s when it must have happened because his car is still in the garage.” A sob escaped Heather and she stared at Troy as if he might somehow have the answers to make this all go away. “What do we do now?”
Brianna looked at him, her big blue eyes holding the same appeal as Heather’s.
“I need to make some phone calls,” he said as he pulled his cell phone out of his pocket. “I want to call my two partners and let them know what’s happening, and then I think we need to call Chief Wendall Kincaid of the police department.” He hadn’t wanted to involve his partners until he’d checked out the situation with Brandon’s wife.
Heather shot up from her chair. “No! You can’t do that. They said they’d kill him if we contacted the police.”
Brianna’s eyes grew bigger as she continued to stare at Troy, and he wondered how on earth he’d gotten himself into a position to make such a weighty decision. “We’ll give it a couple of hours,” he finally said. “We’ll see if the kidnapper calls back with a ransom demand. But call or no call, my personal opinion is that it’s best to contact the police.”
“He’s my husband,” Heather exclaimed. “And I don’t want to do anything to put his life in jeopardy.”
“It’s already in jeopardy,” Brianna said softly. “So there’s nothing we can do right now but wait for the phone to ring.”
Troy nodded and stood. “And in the meantime, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to make my phone calls.” He walked back to the front door and stepped outside to call both Micah and Lucas to let them know what was going on.
If Heather didn’t want him to contact the police, then having his partners here was the next best thing. Micah and Lucas could remain here with Heather while he got Brianna settled in the safe house.
Just because Brandon was missing at the moment didn’t mean that Troy meant to shirk his duty. Brandon had wanted his daughter under wraps at least until after the Wednesday night meeting, and that’s exactly what Troy intended to do.
He was still standing on the porch when Lucas pulled up in his black pickup truck. He had just reached the front porch when Micah roared into the circular driveway and parked his car behind the truck.
Troy quickly filled the two in on what he knew and that Heather was adamantly against calling the police. “Why don’t I knock on some doors and see if anyone noticed any suspicious cars or trucks in the area this morning?” Micah suggested.
Troy nodded. “Sounds like a plan. And Lucas, I’d like you to stay with Heather later while I take Brianna to the safe house. I’m hoping a ransom call happens before the night is over. Then we can decide what the next plan of action should be.”
The next couple of hours crawled by. Heather’s sister arrived and took the distraught Heather upstairs to her bedroom. Micah made the rounds of the neighbors but nobody had seen anything unusual that morning. They waited for the phone to ring as the tension in the air crackled.
Brianna sat curled up on a love seat, looking lost and alone. Her eyes held the torment of her thoughts, and Troy could easily imagine how horrifying those thoughts might be.
By seven o’clock Troy realized there was no point in all of them sitting around waiting for something that might not happen. “Brianna, I want to get you settled in the safe house for the night. Lucas and Micah will let us know if anything happens here, but it’s my gut instinct that nothing is going to happen for the remainder of the night.”
For the first time in the past couple of hours, emotion played on her face as she lifted her chin with stubborn defiance. “I’m not going anywhere.”
“That was one of the conditions of me bringing you back here,” he replied.
“I’m changing the condition.”
Troy swallowed a sigh of impatience. He’d hoped she’d be reasonable, but apparently that wasn’t going to be the case.
“Brianna, your father wanted you someplace safe for a couple of days,” he protested. “He didn’t want you here in the house, or he would never have hired me to take you off someplace.”
She frowned, her eyes radiating pain. “Well, Dad’s not here now. Besides, he was afraid somebody might be after me to get to him. They got him.” Her voice rose slightly. “They don’t need to get me now.”
Troy sighed in frustration. He didn’t know that the danger to her was over. He couldn’t know for sure that the attack she’d suffered in California had been somebody’s attempt to hurt Brandon. “I promised your father that I’d keep you safe,” he said.
“I am safe. I’m in my own home.” She stood abruptly. “You don’t have to worry about me. In fact, I’m going to my room and later I’ll just go to bed.” She moved across the room with a restless energy that was palpable. “It was nice seeing you again, Troy, but your services as a bodyguard are no longer needed.”
With these words she left the room.
BRIANNA OPENED her bedroom door and cocked her head to listen. The muted sound of a television was the only noise. It was after midnight and she assumed one of Troy’s partners was watching the tube or sleeping in front of it.
The phone hadn’t rung throughout the long hours of the night, but the fear inside her had grown to such proportions she could hardly stand it.
Where was her father? Was he still alive? She didn’t know what she’d do if something happened to him. She eased the bedroom door open and took a step into the hallway.
She’d never been the kind of woman to sit passively by and do nothing. Despite the fact that she’d told Troy she intended to go to bed, she had to do something or she’d go mad.
Troy. Even though they’d been at odds for much of their time together, there had been several times during the course of the evening when she’d wanted to launch herself into his strong arms. She’d wanted him to wrap her up in an embrace so tight she could hear his heart beating with hers, smell his cologne that, in the space of such a short time, had become oddly familiar and comforting.
She’d seen his sports car pull away a couple of hours ago. She’d noticed only a pickup was left in the driveway.
Instead of heading toward the grand staircase that led down to the foyer, Brianna went the opposite direction to a back, narrow set of stairs that took her to the kitchen. From there she could leave the house and go to the four-car garage in back. Nobody would know she’d left, and she’d be back before morning.
She held her breath as she walked down the stairs, praying that one didn’t creak loud enough to stir anyone’s interest. If her father had really been taken because of a business deal, then she needed to learn everything she could about that deal. The place to do that was in her father’s downtown office.
Before stepping into the kitchen she paused and listened once again. She sure didn’t want to encounter Lucas helping himself to a late-night snack or getting a drink of water. She didn’t want to have to explain her actions to anyone. She just wanted to do something, anything that made her feel as if she were helping her dad.
There was no indication that anyone was in the kitchen so she stepped into the darkened room and crept to the back door. Four numbers punched into the security panel unarmed the door, and she stepped outside into the warm September air.
A full moon spilled down luminous light as she ran toward the garage. Inside would be the sportutility vehicle that she always drove when she was home for a visit.
She pulled a set of keys from her jeans pocket, unlocked the garage door and went inside. She was hoping Lucas wouldn’t hear her start her car or pull out. She didn’t want to worry anybody; she just wanted to do what she felt she needed to do.
She didn’t bother turning on the overhead lights. The illumination filtering in the open garage door was enough for her to see her vehicle. She opened the car door and slid inside, then leaned back against the backrest and sighed wearily.
“Where are we going?”
She squealed at the unexpected but familiar deep voice coming from the backseat. She whirled around to see Troy. “What are you doing back there?”
He leaned forward, bringing with him the scent of his cologne that she found so arresting. “I had a feeling you weren’t going to stay put tonight.”
“I thought I might go down to the local club and do a little dancing,” she said with a touch of sarcasm.
“Great, then you don’t mind if I ride along.” He got out of the back and switched to the passenger seat.
“I thought I fired you,” she complained as she started the engine.
He smiled. “You didn’t hire me so you can’t fire me.”
“Then I feel like you’re stalking me.” The truth was she was a little bit happy for his company.
“Get used to it. Until your dad returns home and tells me my services are no longer required, you’re stuck with me. Now, are you going to tell me where we’re really going?”
“To my father’s office.” She backed out of the garage and pushed the button on a remote to lower the garage door. “If this really is about the business deal he’s involved with, then I want to know everything there is to know about that deal.”
“Why didn’t you just tell me that earlier this evening?” His eyes looked almost feral in the light from the dash.
“Because I didn’t think you’d let me go. Because I thought you’d insist I sit still like a good little girl, and I can’t sit another minute longer. I need to do something.” She didn’t want him to give her a hard time about this. She was hanging on by a thread, fighting against the fear for her father that threatened to consume her.
He fastened his seat belt. “Then let’s get it done.”
She flashed him a grateful smile and took off down the street. “How long have you been sitting in the garage?” she asked curiously.
“Since nightfall.”
“Am I that predictable?”
He laughed. It was a low, pleasant rumble that momentarily warmed the chill that had possessed her since learning of her father’s kidnapping. “Actually, you’re that unpredictable. I just had a feeling that you wouldn’t be satisfied sitting around with Heather and her sister all night.”
“I prefer action to hand-wringing,” she replied. Besides, if she sat and wrung her hands for too long she’d start to cry, and there was nothing Brianna hated more than crying.
At this time of night there were few other cars on the road as they headed to the downtown area. She hoped and prayed that somehow they could find a lead hiding in the paperwork in her dad’s office.
Brandon’s office was on the fifth floor of a ten-story office building. She rang a buzzer and a gray-haired security guard opened the door, his face wreathed in a warm smile.
“Brianna, I didn’t know you were back in town,” he said as he allowed them entry and then locked the door behind them.
“Got in a couple of days ago, Charlie,” she replied.
“Read about your trouble the other night,” Charlie said. “Crazy life you lead, Missy.”
“I know, Charlie. I know,” she replied. “We’re going to be a little while in Dad’s office.”
“No problem. Just holler when you’re ready to leave.” He went back to the front desk and sat while she and Troy walked toward a bank of elevators.
“You’re obviously a familiar sight around here,” Troy observed as they stepped into the elevator.
Her heart squeezed painfully tight. “I grew up spending a lot of time here with Dad, and Charlie has been the night security for as long as I can remember.”
The doors whooshed closed and the elevator carried them to the fifth floor, where they stepped out and walked the short distance to Brandon’s offices.
She used her key to unlock the door and turned on the overhead lights. Directly ahead of them was the receptionist’s desk, and behind that desk was the door leading to Brandon’s inner sanctum.
She went to that door and opened it, then flipped on the light, conscious of Troy following right behind her.
For a moment the scent in the room caused a stabbing pain to pierce her heart. It smelled like her dad—a blend of his cologne, the mints he loved to chew and the faint aroma of the cigars he occasionally sneaked.
“Are you okay?” Troy asked softly.
She was vaguely surprised to realize that he was sensitive enough to know that being here might be difficult for her.
Nodding, she moved to the desk. “I’m fine,” she said, but she wasn’t fine. She was scared, more frightened than she’d ever been in her life. “I just want to find something, anything that will make sense of what’s happening.” She pulled open the top drawer but before she could look at the contents Troy grabbed her by the arm.
“Wait.” He moved her to the side and withdrew a large manila envelope from the drawer.
“What’s that?” It was obvious by the way he held it close to his chest that he knew what was inside.
His lips compressed together into a thin line as his gray eyes darkened. “It’s pictures of you. Your father showed them to me the other day when I was here.”
“Pictures of me? Let me see them.”
Reluctantly he pulled the photos out of the envelope and handed them to her. “It’s why he hired me to watch over you,” he explained.
There was no question that the vision of her pictures crossed out with bright red marker was disturbing. She set them on the top of the desk, her fingers trembling slightly. “And Dad thought this somehow had to do with the mall development?”
Troy nodded. “He thought it was a warning that he should shut down his plans for the mall or somebody might try to hurt you.”
Without warning she was filled with an enormous sense of grief coupled with a crushing guilt. She dropped the pictures to the top of the desk as tears half blinded her. Not thinking, functioning only on her need to be held, she walked into Troy’s arms.
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Carla Cassidy
Heiress Recon
Carla Cassidy
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
Table of Contents
Cover (#u0c28d5e2-5ddf-52c5-909d-4a49cd6b6e79)
Title Page (#u8e5fb252-ab3b-5cdd-86ed-74a7cad37cd4)
About the Author (#u416a6ffb-7ad2-520f-86be-26917409e8e2)
Prologue (#u4f4cfaa2-222b-54aa-8cc7-80dd1845b876)
Chapter One (#u4f854da7-3510-53c1-b792-255875ad67c9)
Chapter Two (#ud8486b66-e50c-5d46-8172-163c32250105)
Chapter Three (#ue9d96b14-aa40-57c9-bea6-dda70fb4228b)
Chapter Four (#litres_trial_promo)
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)
Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)
About the Author
CARLA CASSIDY is an award-winning author who has written more than fifty books. In 1995, she won Best Mills & Boon® Romance from Romantic Times Bookreviews for Anything for Danny. In 1998, she also won a Career Achievement Award for Best Innovative Series.
Carla believes the only thing better than curling up with a good book to read is sitting down at the computer with a good story to write. She’s looking forward to writing many more books and bringing hours of pleasure to readers.
Prologue
The music in the club pulsed inside Brianna Waverly as she made her way toward the bar. Following close at her heels was her bodyguard, Curt McCain. The man was as big as a house, making her feel even more diminutive than her five-foot height.
As she threaded her way through the throng of people her name was called from here and there. “Bree! Over here!”
She turned to see one of Hollywood’s up-and-coming actresses waving wildly at her. She grinned and waved back but continued her trek forward.
Curt hated the nights she decided to go clubbing, complaining that it was difficult to discern between normal Hollywood types and freaks. But the people she met in the clubs were the same she’d talk to later about making a donation to her animal shelter in Kansas City. Networking was nothing if not a fine art, and Bree had made something of a living at it.
The bartender grinned at her as she reached him. “The usual?” he asked.
She nodded. The usual was a club soda with a twist of lime. While most of the others around her got drunk and stupid, Bree stayed clearheaded and smart.
Curt stood several feet away from her, the glare on his bulldog face enough to keep any sane person away. She’d told him a million times that he took the job too seriously. Mostly she needed him to navigate her through a crowd of eager paparazzi bent on getting a photo of heiress and party girl Bree Waverly.
With drink in hand, Bree turned and surveyed the scene. Everyone who was anyone eventually wound up at Oscar’s at the end of a long night of partying. The club was the newest, hottest scene in Hollywood.
Lights flashed and swirled on the dance floor, splashing the gyrating bodies with vivid color. She took a sip of her drink and tried to find the joy, the heart-pounding excitement that used to possess her whenever she entered one of these places. But the joy wasn’t there. Lately, nothing in Hollywood made her happy.
She’d just as soon be back in her villa, wearing her nightgown and working on the last of the details for the upcoming adoption day at the Kansas City shelter.
A scream from behind pulled Brianna from her thoughts. Before she could turn around to see the cause, Curt yelled her name and threw himself at her. She crashed backward and down, vaguely aware of people screaming. As her head connected with the floor, she saw the spinning lights of the dance floor inside her brain—then nothing.
Chapter One
“I want you to repossess my daughter.”
Troy Sinclair stared at the man who had uttered the words, wondering if Brandon Waverly had lost his mind. “Excuse me?”
Brandon leaned back in the overstuffed chair at the huge mahogany desk. Behind him the wall was decorated with framed photos of him with the mayor of Kansas City and other dignitaries, not only locally but also nationally known.
Brandon Waverly was a wealthy, successful real estate developer and builder in the Kansas City area and a close friend of Troy’s father, but at the moment none of that mattered to Troy as he wondered just when Brandon had gone crazy.
“Sir, Recovery Inc. isn’t into repossessing people,” Troy began, then paused as Brandon waved a hand to stop him from whatever he had been about to say.
“I know your company gets back boats and planes and whatever else people decide not to pay for, but I also know there are times when you aren’t exactly orthodox in your business practices and you go above and beyond for a worthy cause. My daughter is a worthy cause.”
Brandon leaned forward, his blue eyes filled with a torment Troy couldn’t begin to understand. “Perhaps I used the wrong word. What I want you to do is take my daughter someplace safe for a couple of days.”
“And why would I want to do that, sir?” There was no question that Troy was intrigued even though he didn’t want to be. Troy had only met Brianna Waverly once, when he’d been fifteen years old and she’d been ten.
He remembered little about her other than she’d been a pretty little girl with big blue eyes and pale blond hair, but now everyone “knew” of Bree Waverly, Hollywood party girl and a favorite target of the paparazzi.
Troy had no desire to have anything to do with Brianna Waverly, no matter what the circumstances. Still, he would give Brandon the respect of letting the man finish what he had to say.
“As you might know, I’m in the middle of a huge project,” Brandon explained. “I’m developing a new mini-mall on some property north of town. Unfortunately not everyone has been happy to see it going in. We’ve just started construction, and we’ve already had some vandalism and threats from people who don’t want to see retail stores in the middle of farmland.
“There’s a meeting planned for Wednesday night, a meeting at which I hope we’re going to mend some fences. I’m offering some concessions to the residents that I hope will move things forward, but in the meantime it all has suddenly gotten particularly ugly.”
He opened the top drawer of his desk and pulled out a manila envelope. “I received this at my home this morning.” His thick fingers shoved the envelope toward Troy. “Go on, open it.”
Reluctantly Troy unfastened the flap and pulled out the contents. There were a total of five photos cut from a popular tabloid. Each depicted the lovely Brianna Waverly doing what wealthy heiresses do best—going into a popular club, getting out of a limo, sipping a cocktail and sticking out her tongue at a photographer.
The only thing remarkable about the photos was the stunning beauty of the woman and the bright red, angry X slashed through each one. There was no doubt that the pictures were intended as some sort of threat.
The photo captions were as provocative as the woman. MIDWEST HEIRESS DRINKS UNTIL DAWN. BEAUTIFUL BREE AND HER BODYGUARD. WAVERLY HEIRESS WALKS THE WILD SIDE.
Troy felt a sinking sensation in the pit of his stomach. “Isn’t your daughter in California? That’s a long way from your problems here.”
Brandon pulled yet another tabloid from his top drawer. Troy stared at the headline. BEAUTIFUL BREE ATTACKED, BODYGUARD STABBED.
“This happened two nights ago at a club called Oscar’s. Curt, Brianna’s bodyguard, was stabbed but the intended victim was Brianna. He’s still in the hospital and doing just fine. Meanwhile Brianna is arriving here in town this afternoon for a two-week visit,” Brandon replied with a frown. “I’m afraid somebody went after her to get to me, and I’m worried about her being here unprotected. Please, Troy. I’m begging you as a friend of your father’s, as one ex-Navy brother to another.”
Troy sighed. He didn’t want to do this, but he knew he was going to, because Brandon was an old family friend and because he’d served his country with distinction years ago as a Navy seaman. As an ex-Navy SEAL, Troy couldn’t turn his back on the man.
“How exactly is this going to work?” he finally asked, ignoring the gut instinct that told him he was about to make a huge mistake.
THE MEETING LASTED for another hour, then Troy left the downtown Waverly offices and headed to the north side of town where his company, Recovery Inc., was located.
The early September air still held the heat of summer, but he scarcely noticed the temperature as his head whirled with everything Brandon had asked of him. Brandon Waverly hadn’t lost his mind, but obviously Troy had when he’d agreed to be a part of the madness.
The Recovery Inc. office was housed in a strip mall, flanked by a pizza place on one side and a beauty shop on the other.
Boredom, he thought as he drove. That’s part of what had driven him to agree. Business had been slow the last month after some bad publicity had been generated from a mess his partner, Micah Stone, had gotten into. The mess had been cleaned up, and Micah had found the love of his life, but the residual effect had been that things had been far too quiet the last couple of weeks.
He thought of the photos he’d just seen of Brianna Waverly. There was no question that she was beautiful, but she reminded him of somebody from his past and those memories were ones he rarely visited because they hurt too much.
If he was lucky, one of his partners would talk him into calling Brandon and telling him he’d changed his mind. He parked in front of the business, a surge of pride swelling in his chest as he saw the discreet sign that read Recovery Inc.
Three years ago when he and two of his Navy SEAL buddies had opened the business, they’d never dreamed of how successful they’d become. For Troy the success was particularly welcome because he’d done it on his own, without his family money.
As he entered the office he found Micah and Lucas in their usual places—Lucas sprawled on the tasteful sofa, and Micah reared back in the chair at his desk.
“I see you’re both hard at work,” he said dryly.
Lucas sat up and stretched with arms overhead, the motion tugging his T-shirt up to expose his flat, tanned abdomen. “I might look like I’m half-asleep, but actually my mind is whirling to solve all the world’s problems.”
Micah snorted. “Yeah, and occasionally for the last hour or so, I’ve actually heard the snoring sounds his mind makes when it works.”
Troy grinned and walked across the room to his desk. “I just left Brandon Waverly’s office, and he has a job for me,” he said.
“I hope it’s something exciting,” Lucas replied.
“It’s a one-man job. He wants me to take his daughter, Brianna, and put her someplace safe for a couple of days.”
Micah frowned. “Brianna Waverly. Isn’t that Bree Waverly?”
Troy nodded and Lucas released a low whistle. “That is one hot woman.”
“Yeah, if shallow and plastic is your type,” Troy replied. He told them everything that Brandon had said and about the clippings the man had received earlier that morning.
“How does he know it isn’t some garden-variety California freak who sent the clippings and tried to get to her in the club?” Micah asked. “Any creep might have developed some kind of fixation on Bree Waverly. It happens all the time in Hollyweird.”
“Brandon seems fairly certain that the threats are directed at him because of the shopping mall project he’s involved with at the moment.” Troy leaned back in his chair, wishing one of them would tell him the whole idea was stupid. “But he thinks they’ll try to hurt his daughter to get at him.”
“There’s always the safe house,” Micah suggested. “You could take her there.” The safe house was a farmhouse north of the city proper that the company owned to be used for just these kinds of jobs.
“Or if you want to get her out of town, I’ve got that little fishing cabin south of here. It would be a perfect place to stash her for a few days,” Lucas said. “I haven’t been there this year so the windows are boarded up and it’s probably dusty as hell. You know it’s close quarters, and it’s sure nothing fancy.”
That was an understatement. In truth the cabin was downright rustic. A woman like Bree Waverly, who was accustomed to the finest things and the world revolving around her axis, would probably take one look around and break out in hives.
Troy wasn’t sure why that particular thought gave him a bit of pleasure.
Lucas shrugged. “Compared to some of the jobs we’ve had, this sounds easy enough. All he’s asking of you is that you be a glorified babysitter for a couple of days.”
Lucas was right. It sounded easy enough. So why were all of Troy’s instincts screaming at him to run as far away as fast as possible from this particular job?
BRIANNA WAVERLY was happy to be home. Even though she’d lived in Hollywood for the past six years, Kansas City, Missouri, was the place she thought of as home, and after the events of the last couple of days, she was even happier to be here.
There were times when it was hard for her to believe that the daughter of a Kansas City developer had become a “name” in Hollywood. All it had taken was her showing up at some of the hot spots and catching the eyes of several paparazzi. Suddenly her pictures had been in the tabloids and the girl from Kansas City was a star.
She stood in front of the full-length mirror in her childhood bedroom to check her appearance one last time before going downstairs for dinner.
She would have preferred a quiet evening spent with just her father and her stepmother, Heather. But the minute Brianna had walked through the front door, Heather had informed her that Brianna’s father had invited a business associate to join them for dinner.
Tucking a strand of her long, straight blond hair behind her ear, she turned away from the mirror. She’d been hoping to have a little time alone with her dad this evening to tell him of the life-altering decision she’d made, but as she looked at the clock on the nightstand she realized she’d probably have to wait until the next day for the heart-to-heart chat.
She smoothed a hand down the front of the designer dress she’d bought the day before and thrown into her suitcase at the last minute. The little black number was sinfully short and fit her slender curves as if it had been designed specifically for her. The label would impress Heather, and Brianna’s father would predictably ask what animal had eaten the lower half of her skirt.
Knowing that it was getting close to mealtime, she left her bedroom and went downstairs to search for Heather. She found the attractive redhead seated in the formal living room sipping a glass of wine.
“There you are,” she said as Brianna entered the room. “Your father is upstairs changing for dinner, and I’m expecting Troy to show up any moment. Nice dress.”
“Thanks. Troy?” Brianna walked over to the bar and poured herself a glass of the wine that Heather had opened.
“Troy Sinclair, Grace and Lyle’s son,” Heather replied.
Brianna sank down on the love seat opposite Heather. “Troy Sinclair. I haven’t seen him since I was a kid.” She hadn’t seen him in years, but she remembered him. At ten years old she’d had a huge crush on the boy with the blond hair and the gunmetal-gray eyes. “He’s working for Dad now?”
Heather shrugged her bone-thin shoulders. “I guess so. You know I don’t pay any attention to your father’s wheeling and dealing. Now, tell me all about what’s going on in your life.”
Her mother had died when Brianna was ten, and her father had married Heather eight years ago. Brianna had just turned twenty-one; Heather had been thirty.
It had been Heather who had encouraged Brianna to head to California and enjoy her youth, beauty and financial freedom while she could. Heather loved the gossip magazines, and in a bid to please the woman who was now her father’s wife, a young and naive Brianna had left Kansas City with the goal of becoming one of the women her stepmother seemed to admire.
It had only been in the last couple of years that Brianna had recognized that her stepmother might have had an ulterior motive for urging Brianna out of the nest and halfway across the country. With Brianna gone, Heather could have her husband’s attention all to herself.
The two had only been talking a few minutes when Brandon swept into the room. “There she is!” He held out his arms to Brianna, who instantly jumped up to greet him.
Hugging her father had always been as comforting as hugging her favorite teddy bear, and this time was no different. He wrapped her up and gave her a smacking kiss on the forehead, then released her.
“Did the seamstress forget to add the skirt to that blouse?” he asked gruffly.
She smiled and touched his cheek with her fingers. “I’ve missed you, Dad.”
“I’ve missed you, too. Are you doing all right?” His sharp blue eyes gazed at her intently. “Curt doing okay?”
She nodded. “I spoke to him right before I got on the plane. They’re going to release him in the next day or two.” She fought a shiver as she thought of the attack in the club.
Brandon frowned and said, “I can’t believe they didn’t catch the person responsible.”
“It all happened so fast. When I spoke to the police yesterday they said they couldn’t get a credible witness statement. According to the people they interviewed in the club, the man who attacked me was a tall blonde, a short bald man and a burly dark-haired man.”
“She’s safe and she’s here now,” Heather said. “Let’s just put that unpleasantness behind us.” Before she could say anything else the doorbell rang.
“Ah, good. That will be Troy,” Brandon said. As he left to greet the houseguest, Brianna sat up straighter in her chair. It would be interesting to see what kind of man the boy had grown into.
Hot. That was the first word that popped into her head as Troy Sinclair entered the room at her father’s side. His buzz-cut blond hair emphasized lean, elegant features. His broad shoulders, slim hips and long legs were a perfect display form for the dark-blue suit he wore.
Living in Hollywood, Brianna was accustomed to seeing handsome men, but Troy Sinclair radiated an energy that warmed her and sent butterflies dancing in the pit of her stomach. Her reaction to him shocked her. It had been a very long time since any man had made her particularly pleased to be a female.
“Troy, it’s nice to see you again,” she said. The warmth that had momentarily swept through her vanished as she met his gaze. His eyes were as cold as a gray winter sky.
His head bobbed in a curt nod and he smiled, but there wasn’t any warmth behind it. “Nice to see you, too,” he said, then turned away from her as Brandon offered him a before-dinner drink. Okay, so the man was hot to look at and apparently very reserved. She sat back down on the love seat.
“We need to make a toast,” Brandon said and took Brianna’s glass from her. “I’ll fill this up for you. Troy, have a seat there next to my little girl.”
He smelled wonderful, Brianna thought as Troy sat close enough to her that she could feel the heat radiating from his body. A combination of clean male and a spicy cologne. “I understand you’re working for my father. What exactly is it that you do?” she asked.
“I’m an independent contractor,” he replied.
“Troy is helping me with a little issue that has come up with the mall development,” Brandon explained as he handed Brianna her glass. “And now a toast,” he exclaimed as he lifted his own goblet. “To Brianna’s visit home and the hope that she knows just how much her old man loves her.”
Brianna’s heart swelled as she smiled at her father, then took a sip of the drink he’d prepared. Robert, the cook, appeared in the doorway. “Dinner is served,” he announced.
Within minutes they were all seated in the dining room. The conversation was light and pleasant, but Brianna felt a simmering tension in the air.
She found herself studying Troy, who sat across the table. He was definitely eye candy and unfailingly polite, but she sensed a faint disapproval wafting from him each time he glanced her way.
“Brianna, honey, we need to have a serious talk,” Brandon said as they finished up the meal.
Brianna shot a quick glance at Troy, then looked back at her father. “Okay,” she said slowly. “A serious talk about what?”
“Troy isn’t just our dinner guest this evening. He’s here to do a very important job for me,” Brandon said. “I’ve hired him to take you someplace safe for a couple of days.”
“I am someplace safe. I’m home,” she exclaimed, wondering what in the heck was going on. “Dad, if this is about what happened at the club the other night—”
“It is, and it’s not,” Brandon interrupted her. “You know I’m starting work to build on the property next to Precious Pets—” she nodded and he continued “—and a lot of the neighbors aren’t happy about it. There have been some threats, and I’m worried for your safety.”
“And you think the attack the other night in the club might be about this?” It was difficult to believe that somebody who opposed a business deal in Kansas City would fly all the way to California to hurt her. But, it was equally difficult for her to believe that somebody had hated her enough to try to stab her.
“I think it’s possible,” Brandon replied. “I find it terribly coincidental that I get threats and suddenly somebody tries to stab you.” He leaned forward in his chair. “Just do me a favor. Go with Troy for a couple of days, give me some peace of mind.”
“A couple of days?”
Brandon nodded and said, “I hope the heat will die down after a meeting on Wednesday night. Four days, Brianna, that’s all I’m asking of you.”
With the memory of Curt’s stabbing so fresh in her mind and with her father’s worry shining from his eyes, there was no way she could protest. She’d do anything in her power for her dad, and four days underground couldn’t be that bad. “Okay, I’ll go with him.”
Once again she gazed at Troy, who had remained silent during this discussion. “Can you at least tell me where we’re going?” she asked.
“Don’t worry, I’ll see that you’re taken care of,” he replied and smiled. And this time there was just a hint of unexpected amusement in his gray eyes.
Chapter Two
They were in his car by seven-thirty that night and headed for the fishing cabin three hours away. Troy was tense, the muscles in his stomach bunched uncomfortably.
Brianna had looked pretty in her tabloid photos, but in person she was a knockout. Her eyes were bluer, her hair blonder and her features more delicate than any mere photograph could capture.
She was slighter than he’d thought, not tall but very slender. The sexy cocktail dress she wore should be considered a lethal weapon, he thought as he turned onto the highway that would take them south.
“Are we going to the Ozarks?” she asked with a touch of eagerness. “Maybe the Four Seasons? I love that place.”
Of course she would love the luxury resort with all its amenities. “No, we’re not going that far. We’re headed to a place owned by a friend of mine.” She smelled delicious and he fought the impulse to roll down his window in an effort to banish the appealing scent.
“I was afraid I was going to have to fight my way through a bunch of paparazzi to get to your dad’s front door this evening,” he said. “Kansas City must be pretty boring for somebody as accustomed to the limelight as you.” He heard the slight mocking tone in his own voice and knew it was an effort to distance himself from her.
“Oh, I’m sure I’ll manage to dredge up some dreadful publicity while I’m here,” she said with cheerful airiness.
“You won’t be dredging up any publicity for at least the next four days,” he replied.
“I have to be back in town by Saturday,” she said.
“Hot date?”
She crossed her legs. “Something like that,” she replied vaguely.
God, she had great legs, and he hated the fact that he’d noticed. He didn’t want to be attracted to her, didn’t want to find anything appealing about her in any way.
He knew her type. Spoiled and selfish, accustomed to people eager to please her, she was like dozens of other women Troy had known in his life, women he’d chosen to avoid as an adult.
Again he was struck by the scent of her perfume and he wished they were traveling in the airiness of a limo instead of the tight confines of his sports car.
She hid a yawn with the back of her hand.
“The Hollywood fast lane must be catching up to you,” Troy said, then felt the weight of her stare.
“You know, that’s the second or third thing you’ve said to me with a bit of a nasty undertone to your voice. I’m just trying to figure out if you work at being a jerk or it just comes naturally?”
By calling him out she surprised him. He shrugged. “It’s not anything I consciously work on,” he replied.
“That answers my question.” She flipped the air conditioner vent to blow more directly toward her face. “So tell me, is this something you do all the time? Play bodyguard?”
“No. I own a company, Recovery Inc. My two partners and I are in the repossession business.” He didn’t bother to tell her that they were high-stakes players who dealt only in high-stake issues.
“So, you repossessed me.”
“Temporarily,” he agreed.
“If you don’t normally do this kind of work, then why did you agree to do it for my father?”
“Because he’s a friend of my parents and because he used to be a Navy man.” Troy checked his rearview mirror. At this time of night there were few cars on the road, but he wanted to make sure they hadn’t been followed from the Waverly estate by the over-eager press or somebody with more nefarious ideas.
“And you were a Navy man?” she asked.
“Navy SEAL.”
“Ah, that explains it.”
He glanced at her, her features visible in the light from the dash. “Explains what?”
She flashed him a cheeky grin. “Your buff body.”
Troy couldn’t remember the last time he’d blushed, but her words filled his cheeks with unexpected heat. He had a feeling that these three hours in the car with her were going to feel like ten, and he didn’t even want to think about the next four days.
“Is there a Mrs. Repo Man sitting at home waiting for you?” she asked.
“No,” he replied, although he knew the kind of woman he eventually wanted in his life. She would be beautiful, but shy. She’d know the value of a dollar, but would have a giving soul. She’d be an ordinary woman, but extraordinary to him. It was an ideal that he had yet to find, but she was out there somewhere.
Thankfully, Brianna fell silent and stared out the passenger window. Unfortunately, she was only silent for a few minutes. “Do you believe my father’s theory that the person who tried to stab me is somehow connected to his business deal in Kansas City?”
“Who knows,” he replied. “I suppose anything is possible. Of course, it might have nothing to do with your father and instead might be a by-product of your lifestyle. Women like you sometimes get the attention of creeps.”
Once again he felt the weight of her glare. “Women like me?” She repeated the words in a slow and measured tone. “You don’t know me.”
“I know everything I need to know about you,” he replied.
A woman like Bree Waverly had been the cause of him joining the Navy when he was twenty-three years old. He had expected to marry her, but when a false rumor began swirling that his family had lost their fortune in a stock deal, she’d broken off the engagement. So instead of walking down the aisle, he’d walked into the nearest Navy recruitment office in an effort to forget Holly, the beautiful blonde who had broken his heart.
“Really? And what do you think you know about me?” Brianna asked.
Troy sighed. He wished he’d kept his mouth shut, but that had never been one of his strong suits. He was a straight shooter who rarely hesitated to speak his mind. “I know that you’re probably spoiled and love attention. I know that everything in your life has come easily to you. You probably drink too much and take drugs and don’t realize you’re a train wreck about to happen.”
She surprised him with a laugh. “Amazing,” she exclaimed.
“What?”
“It’s amazing that my father decided to have me repossessed by a judgmental, self-righteous jerk.” She laughed again. “This is going to be interesting, repo man. It’s definitely going to be interesting to see if we can spend four days together without one of us killing the other.”
With this pronouncement she lowered the back of her seat, turned her head to the side and closed her eyes.
SHE MUST HAVE fallen asleep because when Brianna opened her eyes again, the car had come to a stop. She put her seat up and looked around, but the night’s darkness prevented her from seeing exactly where they were. The headlights of the car were pointed toward a heavily wooded area but no other structure was visible.
“We’re here,” Troy said. “Why don’t you sit tight and I’ll go turn on some outside lights?” He opened the car door and got out.
She nodded as the last sleepiness fell away. She wasn’t sure what she’d been expecting when he’d told her they were going to a friend’s place, but this definitely wasn’t it.
As lights suddenly appeared, she stared with dismay at the little cabin tucked into the woods. Okay, maybe he was right. Maybe she was just a little bit spoiled because she found the idea of spending four days in this boarded-up, dilapidated place appalling.
Troy returned to the car and motioned her out as he opened the trunk. “Is there running water?” she asked, unable to keep her repugnance from her voice.
“Sure,” he replied cheerfully. “Although the water pressure leaves something to be desired.” He pulled her suitcase from the trunk and placed his smaller black duffle beside it. “I unlocked the front door.” He picked up his duffle and headed toward the porch, a jaunty energy in his step. He paused at the doorway and turned back to her. “Are you coming?”
She looked from him to the heavy suitcase she’d brought. “I’m coming,” she muttered and grabbed the suitcase handle.
He was enjoying himself, she thought as she dragged the case across the ground toward the porch. He’d judged and condemned her as a carefree, spoiled party girl who lived a life of luxury, and he liked the idea of bringing her to this place where she’d have to carry her own suitcase through the front door.
Buck up, she told herself. If this put her father’s mind at ease, then she could deal with anything for four days, even this crappy cabin and Troy Sinclair.
She huffed with the effort to pull the suitcase up the porch and inside the front door. He could have at least helped her through the door, she thought irritably.
The cabin wasn’t quite as bad on the inside as she’d expected. She entered a room that served as both kitchen and living room. The furniture was mismatched, as if it had been collected at a thrift store, and the kitchen appliances looked older than her. There were two other doors, one she presumed led to the bedroom and the other to the bathroom.
She dragged her suitcase toward the door she guessed was the bedroom. “I’m going to bed. I’ll see you in the morning,” she said. “Oh, and by the way, I like my breakfast around tenish.”
It was a great exit line meant to get under his skin. Unfortunately, she had pulled her suitcase into the bathroom. With as much dignity as she could muster, she left the bathroom and yanked the suitcase into the bedroom. She ignored his grin of amusement.
Although she expected sleep to be a long time coming in an unfamiliar bed and with the events of the day to mull over, sleep came as soon as she laid her head on the pillow.
SHE AWAKENED SLOWLY, first recognizing someplace in the back of her sleep-addled mind that the bed beneath her wasn’t her own. The second thing that came to her attention was the sound of melodic birdsong.
She cracked open an eyelid and stared at the rough-hewn wooden wall in front of her. There was a window directly ahead, but only slender slivers of sunshine danced around the boards that covered almost all of the glass.
The cabin. That’s right. She was in the middle of the woods in a cabin that belonged to Troy Sinclair’s friend. She was stuck here for the next four days with a man who apparently believed she was nothing more than what the tabloid headlines claimed her to be.
Slinging her legs over the side of the bed, she grabbed her robe and pulled it around her. Coffee. She could smell the fragrant scent in the air.
Quickly combing her hair with her fingers, she pronounced herself ready to tackle a big cup of java. She opened the bedroom door and instantly spied Troy sitting with his back to her at a small wooden table. At some point while she’d slept he’d removed the boards on the windows, and morning sunshine poured through the streaked glass.
“Ah, the heiress awakens. Coffee is on the counter. Unfortunately, the maid has the day off so you’ll have to help yourself.” These last words were said with a touch of mocking sarcasm.
“I suppose I can manage to make myself a cup of coffee, but anything more complicated than that is way beyond my capacity,” she replied as she walked across the room to the coffeemaker on the countertop.
She poured herself a cup of the brew, then sat at the table across from Troy. He looked as good this morning in a short-sleeved white shirt and jeans as he had the night before in his expensive suit.
“You brought me here on purpose, didn’t you? We could have gone to any resort in the country, hidden away in an expensive hotel, but you chose this place just to be difficult.”
For the first time, he smiled and the gesture warmed those gorgeous eyes of his. “I thought roughing it would be good for you, build your character. You know, no masseuse, no maid service, no cook.”
She took a sip of the coffee. “Ah, we’re back to the same thing. You don’t know anything about me, and you certainly don’t know anything about my character. I’m beginning to find you a bore, repo man.”
“I know everything I need to know about you, Bree.” He emphasized the name the press had given her.
She took another sip of coffee and eyed him over the rim of her cup. She found his instantaneous, obvious dislike of who he thought she was to be both intriguing and irritating.
She drained her coffee mug and stood, deciding that a shower and getting dressed for the day might make her feel better prepared to take on the next four days.
“I’m going to shower.” She walked halfway across the room, then turned back and smiled at him. “I like my eggs scrambled,” she said, then disappeared into the bathroom.
If he expected her to be a spoiled brat, then she could act like one. Minutes later she stood beneath a tepid spray of water, her mind flying over the events of the last couple of days.
She knew why it was so easy to exchange verbal insults with Troy; it kept her mind off the fact that her life had become horribly surreal since Curt had been stabbed. There was no question that the knife had been meant for her, that if Curt hadn’t acted quickly and taken the knife himself, she would have been wounded or worse.
She’d spent the night of the attack in the hospital with Curt, waiting while he had surgery to stitch up arm muscles that had been damaged by the cut.
It had almost been a relief for her father to tell her that she’d been threatened because of a business deal he was working on. Before he’d told her his suspicion, she’d been unable to imagine why anyone would want to harm her.
Hopefully, the meeting her father mentioned he had on Wednesday night would resolve this issue and she could get back to her life, a life that would no longer involve L.A. or the paparazzi.
Her life in California was always meant to be temporary. Her one true love was the Precious Pets Animal Haven she owned in Kansas City. She’d hoped to have a chance to tell her dad that she was moving back and taking over the day-to-day running of the business she loved.
She’d already told Mike Kidwell, her manager at the Haven, that she hoped to be working side by side with him in the next couple of weeks.
She shut off the shower and grabbed one of the thin towels to dry off. Hopefully, she’d be able to tell her dad the good news on Thursday. She knew he’d be thrilled with her decision.
In fact, she’d sold her dad part of the land where Precious Pets was located for his new mall. She hadn’t considered that her farmer neighbors would be up in arms over the plan for a retail area.
She dressed in a pair of jeans and a T-shirt that read BREE across the breasts, then brushed out her wet hair and left the bathroom.
Troy stood at the stove taking up crispy bacon. “If you do breakfast really well, I’ll see about letting you make me lunch and dinner, as well,” she said as she returned to her seat at the table.
He turned to look at her with narrowed eyes. “Don’t push your luck, Bree. I’ll do breakfast duty and you can do lunch. We can share dinner.”
She watched silently as he cracked eggs into a bowl and then scrambled them with a bit of milk. “The last time I saw you, you weren’t such a judgmental jerk. What happened since then to change you?” she asked.
“I didn’t change and I’m not particularly judgmental.” The toast popped up and he grabbed the pieces to butter. “You and I both come from the same background of privilege. Some of us take our wealth and the opportunities it provides us to build something positive with it. Others lead lives of excess and go nowhere.”
“And because you’ve seen a couple of pictures of me in the tabloids, you think you know all about me?”
He scooped up the eggs, prepared them each a plate, then set hers in front of her and joined her at the table.
“You aren’t as smart as you look, repo man.” She picked up a piece of the toast and took a bite, chewing thoughtfully as her gaze remained focused on him. “If you think those photographs that capture just a second of my life are the total sum of me, then you have a bigger problem than you realize.”
He released a small sigh. “Look, I think we’ve gotten off on the wrong foot. I don’t want to spend the next four days trading insults with you. I suggest a truce.” He held out his hand to her.
He had a nice hand, one that looked strong and capable. She grabbed it and was surprised by a rivulet of warmth that traveled up her arm. “Truce,” she agreed and quickly pulled her hand away.
For the next few minutes they ate in silence. She gazed out the window where the view was of tranquil isolation. Tall trees were grouped closely together with bushes and tall grass at their bases. In the distance the sun sparkled on a large body of water visible between the trunks of the trees.
Actually, four days here didn’t seem like such a horrible idea, but she didn’t want him to know that’s what she thought.
“So, what are we going to do to pass this time in this place?” she asked. “I don’t suppose you do manicures.”
“Give me a pair of clippers, and I’ll do the best I can,” he replied.
She winced at the very idea. “I think the only way we’ll get along is if you pretend to be my cabana boy and fix me cocktails and hors d’oeuvres.”
He grinned at her and said, “I’ll consider it after you put on an apron and pretend you’re my maid.” He eyed her curiously. “You know how to fish?”
“Actually I do. When I was little and it was just me and my dad, he’d take me to Smithville Lake and we’d sit on the dam and fish on Sunday afternoons. But I haven’t done it in years.”
“It’s like riding a bicycle, once you’ve mastered it you don’t ever forget how.”
Once again she glanced out the window. The idea of sitting on a bank with a line in the water was surprisingly appealing. She hadn’t realized how scared she’d been since the attack in the club until now, when she felt completely safe and protected by the man who sat across from her.
“How about you wash the dishes and I’ll dry?” she asked when they finished eating.
He looked at her in surprise. “That will work,” he replied.
Together they stood and carried their dishes to the sink. He’d just started running water when a cell phone rang. He quickly shut off the faucet and pulled the phone from his shirt pocket.
“Sinclair,” he said.
Brianna knew instantly that whoever was on the other end of the line was delivering bad news. Every muscle in Troy’s body stiffened and she could almost smell the burn of energy that wafted off him.
“Okay. All right. Just sit tight. I’ll be back in touch.” He hung up and stared at Brianna, and something in his look made her heart begin to beat an unsteady rhythm.
“What? Who was on the phone?” “That was your stepmother. Your father has been kidnapped.”
Chapter Three
“Kidnapped?” Brianna stared at him as if the word was as foreign to her as frying onions in a burger joint. “What are you talking about?”
The easy babysitting job had suddenly become more complicated. Troy fought the impulse to take her in his arms. She looked so fragile standing before him, her big blue eyes widened in horror.
“Heather said she got a phone call from someone who told her your father had been kidnapped.” He hesitated a moment, unsure how much to tell her, then opted for the whole truth. “The caller told her that if she goes to the authorities Brandon will be killed.”
Her gaze darted around his face, as if seeking a sign that this was all a bad joke. “Was there a ransom demand?” she finally asked.
Troy shook his head. “No. They just told Heather to keep her mouth shut if she wants to keep her husband alive.”
“You have to take me back. I need to get home.” She looked around wildly. “I’ve got to get my things together. I need to be with Heather. We need to find my dad.” A trembling overtook her as tears filled her eyes.
Troy stepped toward her and grabbed her shoulders, fearing she was about to spiral out of control. “Calm down,” he said. “I’ll take you back to Kansas City on one condition.”
“What condition?”
He released his hold on her shoulders. “The condition is that until we know exactly what’s going on, you stay with me in a safe house my company maintains in the city. It’s a farmhouse north of town, not far from where your father is building his mall.”
“Fine, whatever,” she replied.
“Okay, get your things and let’s get out of here.”
It took only minutes for the two of them to repack their bags, load them into the trunk of the car and get on the road.
“He thought I was the one in danger,” she said, her voice thin and filled with worry. “He protected me but he didn’t protect himself. Whatever the ransom, I’ll pay it. The kidnapper can have every dime I possess as long as he gives my father back unhurt.”
“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. We don’t know for sure that it’s about a ransom.”
She looked at him in surprise. “What else could it be about?”
He tightened his grip on the steering wheel and tried to ignore the tight nerves knotted in his stomach. The fact that the kidnapper hadn’t made a ransom demand worried him a lot, but he didn’t want Brianna to see his concern.
“Maybe it’s about the meeting your dad was supposed to have on Wednesday night,” he finally answered. “Maybe the kidnapper believes if Brandon can’t make that meeting, the mall development will suffer.”
“Maybe,” she replied, but he could tell by the dubious tone of her voice that she didn’t completely believe it. “But what would that accomplish? Eventually they’ll have to let him go.”
“We can’t really know what’s going on until we have more information,” he replied. He glanced at the clock on the dashboard. It was almost noon. They wouldn’t be back in Kansas City before three. Maybe by then Brandon would show up, and everyone would realize it had all just been a terrible mistake.
“Can’t you drive any faster?” she asked impatiently.
“It will slow us down considerably if I get pulled over for a speeding ticket. Just sit back and try to relax until we get you home.” He knew how ridiculous it was to tell her to try to relax, but there was nothing else to do at the moment.
“Maybe I should call Heather,” she said and dug into her purse to withdraw a sparkly cell phone.
“That probably isn’t a good idea,” he replied. “She’ll be keeping the line clear in case a ransom call comes in. She promised to call me if anything else happens.”
When she dropped the phone back in her purse and fell silent, Troy was grateful. He needed to think. He needed to figure out how to counsel Heather when they got to her house.
He believed, theoretically, that the proper authorities should be contacted when a crime was committed. But he’d never been faced with an actual situation like this.
What if he insisted that Heather call the cops and Brandon was then murdered? He’d have to live with the guilt for the rest of his life. He glanced at the woman beside him. Despite the fact that he believed she was incredibly spoiled and he didn’t agree with the way she lived her life, there was no question that she adored her father. Troy didn’t want to be responsible for taking Brandon away from his daughter.
He would feel better if they discovered Heather had received a ransom call when they reached her place. At least they would know that they were dealing with a criminal looking for a cash payday. It was much more problematic if a ransom call didn’t come in.
Brianna remained silent for the rest of the ride, and Troy couldn’t begin to guess what must be going through her head. What surprised him was that she wasn’t having hysterics. She wasn’t playing the drama queen.
As they pulled off the highway and into her neighborhood, she sat up straighter, her features taut with strain. “Maybe it’s all been a sick joke or some kind of a mistake.”
“Maybe,” Troy agreed, not having the heart to disagree with her. He knew that if that were the case, Heather would have let them know that Brandon was home safe and sound.
Brianna’s childhood home was a huge two-story mansion set on two acres of prime property. As Troy turned into the winding circle drive that led to the front door, the knot in his stomach twisted tighter.
On the outside nothing appeared amiss. No police cars were parked in the driveway, no news crews littered the lawn. Apparently Heather hadn’t called anyone for help yet.
Brianna was out of the car before he’d shut off the engine. He quickly parked, jumped out of the car and hurried after her.
“Heather!” she cried as she burst through the front door.
The redhead appeared in the doorway of the living room, her eyes swollen and red-rimmed as she twisted a tissue with her fingers. With a small cry, Brianna ran to her and the two women embraced.
“Thank God you’re here,” Heather said as she released Brianna. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to do. I’ve been afraid to do anything.”
“Have you heard anything else? Have you gotten any more calls? A ransom demand?” Troy asked.
“No. Nothing since the first phone call.” She motioned them into the living room.
“Have you contacted anyone else?” he asked once they were all seated.
“Only my sister. She’s going to be here in a couple of hours to stay with me.” Heather dabbed her eyes with the tissue. “And I called Brandon’s office to see if he was there, if maybe this is all just a terrible mistake, but his secretary told me he didn’t show up for work this morning.”
“How did this happen? Do you know where he was taken?” Brianna’s voice trembled slightly, and again Troy had the ridiculous desire to pull her into his arms and assure her that everything was going to be fine.
“Apparently somebody was waiting for him when he stepped out of the house this morning. You know your father, the first thing he does after getting dressed and ready for work is walk out to get the morning paper. That’s when it must have happened because his car is still in the garage.” A sob escaped Heather and she stared at Troy as if he might somehow have the answers to make this all go away. “What do we do now?”
Brianna looked at him, her big blue eyes holding the same appeal as Heather’s.
“I need to make some phone calls,” he said as he pulled his cell phone out of his pocket. “I want to call my two partners and let them know what’s happening, and then I think we need to call Chief Wendall Kincaid of the police department.” He hadn’t wanted to involve his partners until he’d checked out the situation with Brandon’s wife.
Heather shot up from her chair. “No! You can’t do that. They said they’d kill him if we contacted the police.”
Brianna’s eyes grew bigger as she continued to stare at Troy, and he wondered how on earth he’d gotten himself into a position to make such a weighty decision. “We’ll give it a couple of hours,” he finally said. “We’ll see if the kidnapper calls back with a ransom demand. But call or no call, my personal opinion is that it’s best to contact the police.”
“He’s my husband,” Heather exclaimed. “And I don’t want to do anything to put his life in jeopardy.”
“It’s already in jeopardy,” Brianna said softly. “So there’s nothing we can do right now but wait for the phone to ring.”
Troy nodded and stood. “And in the meantime, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to make my phone calls.” He walked back to the front door and stepped outside to call both Micah and Lucas to let them know what was going on.
If Heather didn’t want him to contact the police, then having his partners here was the next best thing. Micah and Lucas could remain here with Heather while he got Brianna settled in the safe house.
Just because Brandon was missing at the moment didn’t mean that Troy meant to shirk his duty. Brandon had wanted his daughter under wraps at least until after the Wednesday night meeting, and that’s exactly what Troy intended to do.
He was still standing on the porch when Lucas pulled up in his black pickup truck. He had just reached the front porch when Micah roared into the circular driveway and parked his car behind the truck.
Troy quickly filled the two in on what he knew and that Heather was adamantly against calling the police. “Why don’t I knock on some doors and see if anyone noticed any suspicious cars or trucks in the area this morning?” Micah suggested.
Troy nodded. “Sounds like a plan. And Lucas, I’d like you to stay with Heather later while I take Brianna to the safe house. I’m hoping a ransom call happens before the night is over. Then we can decide what the next plan of action should be.”
The next couple of hours crawled by. Heather’s sister arrived and took the distraught Heather upstairs to her bedroom. Micah made the rounds of the neighbors but nobody had seen anything unusual that morning. They waited for the phone to ring as the tension in the air crackled.
Brianna sat curled up on a love seat, looking lost and alone. Her eyes held the torment of her thoughts, and Troy could easily imagine how horrifying those thoughts might be.
By seven o’clock Troy realized there was no point in all of them sitting around waiting for something that might not happen. “Brianna, I want to get you settled in the safe house for the night. Lucas and Micah will let us know if anything happens here, but it’s my gut instinct that nothing is going to happen for the remainder of the night.”
For the first time in the past couple of hours, emotion played on her face as she lifted her chin with stubborn defiance. “I’m not going anywhere.”
“That was one of the conditions of me bringing you back here,” he replied.
“I’m changing the condition.”
Troy swallowed a sigh of impatience. He’d hoped she’d be reasonable, but apparently that wasn’t going to be the case.
“Brianna, your father wanted you someplace safe for a couple of days,” he protested. “He didn’t want you here in the house, or he would never have hired me to take you off someplace.”
She frowned, her eyes radiating pain. “Well, Dad’s not here now. Besides, he was afraid somebody might be after me to get to him. They got him.” Her voice rose slightly. “They don’t need to get me now.”
Troy sighed in frustration. He didn’t know that the danger to her was over. He couldn’t know for sure that the attack she’d suffered in California had been somebody’s attempt to hurt Brandon. “I promised your father that I’d keep you safe,” he said.
“I am safe. I’m in my own home.” She stood abruptly. “You don’t have to worry about me. In fact, I’m going to my room and later I’ll just go to bed.” She moved across the room with a restless energy that was palpable. “It was nice seeing you again, Troy, but your services as a bodyguard are no longer needed.”
With these words she left the room.
BRIANNA OPENED her bedroom door and cocked her head to listen. The muted sound of a television was the only noise. It was after midnight and she assumed one of Troy’s partners was watching the tube or sleeping in front of it.
The phone hadn’t rung throughout the long hours of the night, but the fear inside her had grown to such proportions she could hardly stand it.
Where was her father? Was he still alive? She didn’t know what she’d do if something happened to him. She eased the bedroom door open and took a step into the hallway.
She’d never been the kind of woman to sit passively by and do nothing. Despite the fact that she’d told Troy she intended to go to bed, she had to do something or she’d go mad.
Troy. Even though they’d been at odds for much of their time together, there had been several times during the course of the evening when she’d wanted to launch herself into his strong arms. She’d wanted him to wrap her up in an embrace so tight she could hear his heart beating with hers, smell his cologne that, in the space of such a short time, had become oddly familiar and comforting.
She’d seen his sports car pull away a couple of hours ago. She’d noticed only a pickup was left in the driveway.
Instead of heading toward the grand staircase that led down to the foyer, Brianna went the opposite direction to a back, narrow set of stairs that took her to the kitchen. From there she could leave the house and go to the four-car garage in back. Nobody would know she’d left, and she’d be back before morning.
She held her breath as she walked down the stairs, praying that one didn’t creak loud enough to stir anyone’s interest. If her father had really been taken because of a business deal, then she needed to learn everything she could about that deal. The place to do that was in her father’s downtown office.
Before stepping into the kitchen she paused and listened once again. She sure didn’t want to encounter Lucas helping himself to a late-night snack or getting a drink of water. She didn’t want to have to explain her actions to anyone. She just wanted to do something, anything that made her feel as if she were helping her dad.
There was no indication that anyone was in the kitchen so she stepped into the darkened room and crept to the back door. Four numbers punched into the security panel unarmed the door, and she stepped outside into the warm September air.
A full moon spilled down luminous light as she ran toward the garage. Inside would be the sportutility vehicle that she always drove when she was home for a visit.
She pulled a set of keys from her jeans pocket, unlocked the garage door and went inside. She was hoping Lucas wouldn’t hear her start her car or pull out. She didn’t want to worry anybody; she just wanted to do what she felt she needed to do.
She didn’t bother turning on the overhead lights. The illumination filtering in the open garage door was enough for her to see her vehicle. She opened the car door and slid inside, then leaned back against the backrest and sighed wearily.
“Where are we going?”
She squealed at the unexpected but familiar deep voice coming from the backseat. She whirled around to see Troy. “What are you doing back there?”
He leaned forward, bringing with him the scent of his cologne that she found so arresting. “I had a feeling you weren’t going to stay put tonight.”
“I thought I might go down to the local club and do a little dancing,” she said with a touch of sarcasm.
“Great, then you don’t mind if I ride along.” He got out of the back and switched to the passenger seat.
“I thought I fired you,” she complained as she started the engine.
He smiled. “You didn’t hire me so you can’t fire me.”
“Then I feel like you’re stalking me.” The truth was she was a little bit happy for his company.
“Get used to it. Until your dad returns home and tells me my services are no longer required, you’re stuck with me. Now, are you going to tell me where we’re really going?”
“To my father’s office.” She backed out of the garage and pushed the button on a remote to lower the garage door. “If this really is about the business deal he’s involved with, then I want to know everything there is to know about that deal.”
“Why didn’t you just tell me that earlier this evening?” His eyes looked almost feral in the light from the dash.
“Because I didn’t think you’d let me go. Because I thought you’d insist I sit still like a good little girl, and I can’t sit another minute longer. I need to do something.” She didn’t want him to give her a hard time about this. She was hanging on by a thread, fighting against the fear for her father that threatened to consume her.
He fastened his seat belt. “Then let’s get it done.”
She flashed him a grateful smile and took off down the street. “How long have you been sitting in the garage?” she asked curiously.
“Since nightfall.”
“Am I that predictable?”
He laughed. It was a low, pleasant rumble that momentarily warmed the chill that had possessed her since learning of her father’s kidnapping. “Actually, you’re that unpredictable. I just had a feeling that you wouldn’t be satisfied sitting around with Heather and her sister all night.”
“I prefer action to hand-wringing,” she replied. Besides, if she sat and wrung her hands for too long she’d start to cry, and there was nothing Brianna hated more than crying.
At this time of night there were few other cars on the road as they headed to the downtown area. She hoped and prayed that somehow they could find a lead hiding in the paperwork in her dad’s office.
Brandon’s office was on the fifth floor of a ten-story office building. She rang a buzzer and a gray-haired security guard opened the door, his face wreathed in a warm smile.
“Brianna, I didn’t know you were back in town,” he said as he allowed them entry and then locked the door behind them.
“Got in a couple of days ago, Charlie,” she replied.
“Read about your trouble the other night,” Charlie said. “Crazy life you lead, Missy.”
“I know, Charlie. I know,” she replied. “We’re going to be a little while in Dad’s office.”
“No problem. Just holler when you’re ready to leave.” He went back to the front desk and sat while she and Troy walked toward a bank of elevators.
“You’re obviously a familiar sight around here,” Troy observed as they stepped into the elevator.
Her heart squeezed painfully tight. “I grew up spending a lot of time here with Dad, and Charlie has been the night security for as long as I can remember.”
The doors whooshed closed and the elevator carried them to the fifth floor, where they stepped out and walked the short distance to Brandon’s offices.
She used her key to unlock the door and turned on the overhead lights. Directly ahead of them was the receptionist’s desk, and behind that desk was the door leading to Brandon’s inner sanctum.
She went to that door and opened it, then flipped on the light, conscious of Troy following right behind her.
For a moment the scent in the room caused a stabbing pain to pierce her heart. It smelled like her dad—a blend of his cologne, the mints he loved to chew and the faint aroma of the cigars he occasionally sneaked.
“Are you okay?” Troy asked softly.
She was vaguely surprised to realize that he was sensitive enough to know that being here might be difficult for her.
Nodding, she moved to the desk. “I’m fine,” she said, but she wasn’t fine. She was scared, more frightened than she’d ever been in her life. “I just want to find something, anything that will make sense of what’s happening.” She pulled open the top drawer but before she could look at the contents Troy grabbed her by the arm.
“Wait.” He moved her to the side and withdrew a large manila envelope from the drawer.
“What’s that?” It was obvious by the way he held it close to his chest that he knew what was inside.
His lips compressed together into a thin line as his gray eyes darkened. “It’s pictures of you. Your father showed them to me the other day when I was here.”
“Pictures of me? Let me see them.”
Reluctantly he pulled the photos out of the envelope and handed them to her. “It’s why he hired me to watch over you,” he explained.
There was no question that the vision of her pictures crossed out with bright red marker was disturbing. She set them on the top of the desk, her fingers trembling slightly. “And Dad thought this somehow had to do with the mall development?”
Troy nodded. “He thought it was a warning that he should shut down his plans for the mall or somebody might try to hurt you.”
Without warning she was filled with an enormous sense of grief coupled with a crushing guilt. She dropped the pictures to the top of the desk as tears half blinded her. Not thinking, functioning only on her need to be held, she walked into Troy’s arms.
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Carla Cassidy
Тип: электронная книга
Жанр: Современная зарубежная литература
Язык: на английском языке
Издательство: HarperCollins
Дата публикации: 16.04.2024
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О книге: Heiress Recon, электронная книга автора Carla Cassidy на английском языке, в жанре современная зарубежная литература