“In here, Paula,” Ben called to his daughter.
Paula stepped into the den, her purse swinging on her elbow. She was a truly striking woman. Her professional dress fit her to perfection and her makeup could have been done by an expert.
“Wow. Do you ever get to be alone?” She raised a brow as she took in the scene.
“No. Not right now.” He didn’t sound like he cared.
She acknowledged each of them, then focused back on her father. “Good, I’m glad. After the shooting at the courthouse, you need people watching your back for sure.” She frowned. “Have you seen Stan?”
“No, not lately. He called to check on me after the shooting, but hasn’t been by. Why?”
“He was supposed to get me in to see an inmate and hasn’t gotten back to me.”
“Who’s the inmate?”
Paula waved a hand. “It doesn’t matter. What’s the latest on the bill?”
“You know the latest, Paula. There’s nothing else to report.”
“Fine. Where’s Mom? I need to talk to her about that charity event she wants me to attend with her. I’m not sure I’ll be able to, but Stan said he’d go in my place.”
“I don’t care which one of you goes, just as long as one of you does. I can’t. I’m not taking a chance on bringing danger to the people there.”
Paula’s jaw tightened. “You think someone would actually do that?”
“Why not? They shot at me in a busy courthouse.”
“Yes, they did. You’re probably right. I get it, Dad, but that doesn’t mean I have to like it.”
The judge sighed. “Check the sitting area in the bedroom. Last I saw her, she was curled up with a book.”
“Thanks.” Paula nodded to them and headed down the hallway to her parents’ bedroom.
Blake watched her go, then turned back to the judge. “Here’s what I have in mind.”
20
MONDAY MORNING
The man in the recliner aimed the remote at the television and powered it off. So. It was done. Judge Benjamin Worthington had died of a heart attack in his sleep. According to the reporter, the man had told his wife he was feeling ill and went to take a nap. He never woke up. His family, friends, and coworkers were in shock.
The marshal had done it.
If it was true. But his source was infallible. When she’d called him crying to tell him, he almost hadn’t believed it. No, the judge was dead. Finally.
Too bad Rachel MacCallum would never see her father again. But that was fine. The brat. He’d like to wrap his hands around her throat and squeeze the life out of her, but that would be cutting off his nose to spite his face.
And that would be stupid.
She’d served her purpose and now she’d bring him a very large profit. He debated whether he should just kill her and be done with it, but the lure of the money was too great. As much grief as she’d caused him, he might as well make a profit off her. The fact of her diabetes wouldn’t be an issue. He had a very special client in mind for her. He’d use her, then kill her. And he’d pay very handsomely to do so. So, Rachel would earn her keep and die in the process. It would all end well for him.
He picked up the phone from the end table and speed-dialed his contact.
“Yeah?”
“It’s done. Put her in the next auction and get rid of her.”
“You got it.”
He hung up and leaned back with a deep breath. The stress of the last few weeks rolled off his shoulders.
“Who were you talking to?”
He looked up. “No one, honey. No one important. Just a business deal that needed some attention.”
She smiled. When he’d gone looking for this woman, it was that beautiful smile that had stunned him. Attracted him. Even the realization that he could have made a lot of money with her hadn’t motivated him to win her over. No, he’d had other plans in mind. Plans other than money.
When she’d responded positively to his flirtations, he’d been gratified, though not necessarily surprised. Most women found him attractive. He held out a hand. “Come sit with me. We should plan our next trip.”
“I’m just so tired.”
“I know. Can I do anything to help?”
“Yes.” She curled her arms around his neck. “Just hold me.”
He kissed her. “Italy?”
“Or France.”
“Or both.”
She smiled at him, then leaned over and nuzzled his neck. “Mm. Yes. Both.” A sigh slipped from her. “Thank you for understanding. What would I do without you?”
He’d keep her.
For now.
Two hours ago, one of the captors had come into the room leading two women wearing ski masks and carrying large bags. “All right, everyone, listen up. Today is the big day. Thelma and Louise here are going to help you get ready for it. Thelma is in the red mask, Louise is in the blue. Thelma is hair and wardrobe, Louise is everything else. You’ll be assigned outfits and makeup. From lingerie and dresses to heels to makeup to jewelry. You will look perfect in every way. Classy, not cheap. Is that understood?”
Even though her stomach was in knots, Rachel raised a brow and met his gaze. This was the man who’d snatched her from the store and from the edge of safety. He’d worn the ski mask in the store just like he wore one now, so she had no way of knowing who he was or what he looked like and she didn’t recognize his voice. But she’d know those eyes anywhere. “Thelma and Louise? Let’s hope so.”
He scowled. “Not their real names. Can’t take any chances now, can we, Houdini?”
Rachel snapped her lips shut. No need to antagonize the man. She’d been scared to death when she’d heard him talking to her father about “punishing” her, but he’d simply hung up the phone and stared at her before spraying her again.
He turned away and began his leisurely pace in front of the cages once more. “So, how many of you enjoy the beach?”
Silence.
“I said, how many of you enjoy the beach! Do you enjoy the beach? Answer the question!”
“Yes!” They answered in unison.
“Good, because we’ve got about a two-hour ride today. If you’re good and cooperate, I might let you take a little walk in the sand. Would anyone like that?”
A few staggered yeses echoed in the cement room.
“I thought so. Now. Here are the rules. We’ll be using a large cargo van. You will sit on the floor. You will not attempt to look out the back windows. You will not attempt to escape.” His eyes locked on Rachel. “If you do, you will die and your family will die. You don’t need to bother to think, you just need to follow orders. It’s really that simple. Understood?”
He waited until she nodded with the others.
Keeping his eyes on hers, he said, “There’s no one coming to rescue you, there’s no Superman in Columbia, no knight on a white horse. It’s just us. So, get hope out of your system and replace it with acceptance. It’s the best way to stay alive and survive. There. That’s my advice. I suggest you take it. Understood?”
Even though fury burned with every pulse of her heart, Rachel forced her face not to reflect it. She gave another slow nod along with the other girls. Seemingly satisfied, if slightly surprised, with her docile response, he tilted his head toward Thelma and Louise. “Get to work, ladies.”
Sitting in the conference room of the FBI office once more, Chloe pushed the auction flyer across the table to Linc. Blake sat next to him. The other task force agents leaned in. “I think this whole auction thing is some kind of cover-up.”
“It’s an art auction,” Linc said. “A real auction. People are coming from all over to buy paintings. And now that Ethan Wright is dead, his paintings are going to go for top dollar.”
“I know. I think the auction is on the up-and-up. Mostly. I just think there’s another facet and it’s connected to the human trafficking ring somehow.”
“Okay.” He leaned back. “Connected how?”
“I don’t know. I’m going on instinct. Did they find anything at Ethan’s house?”