“I think Liam Shea’s our man.” Chase considered the situation. “Is Vice President Grant still missing?”
“Last update I received from Quantico, he was. Some reporter got a hold of the story. Most of the radio stations are running on generated power. Now it’s all over the news.”
“Anyone claim responsibility?”
“Not yet.” The other man paused. “The police lab put a rush on the blood found at Hancock Tower. It’s been positively identified as the vice president’s.”
“You think he’s still alive?”
“No way to tell.” He sighed. “I sure as hell hope so. This is unprecedented.”
“Any word from Shane?”
“I talked to him briefly. He was ambushed, but he’s fine. I’m telling you, all hell has broken loose.”
Remembering the cell phone he’d taken from the gunman, Chase said, “Can you run a number on a cell phone and see if anything pops up?”
“Whose?”
“I got it from one of the goons. Chances are it’s a disposable and he didn’t use his real name. But criminals can be incredibly stupid sometimes.”
“Worth checking.” Ben Parker fell silent while Chase gave him the number. Then he said, “I think you and Lily should try again to come in. Let us set you up in a safe house until this situation stabilizes.”
“Not yet.”
“Chase…at least bring her in. For God’s sake, if she’s pregnant and these bastards are trying to—”
“I’ll keep her safe,” Chase interjected, not wanting to hear the way the other man was going to finish the sentence. “I’ll keep both of them safe.”
As he disconnected, he prayed to God he could keep his word.
Chapter Seven
“We lost them.”
Aidan Shea paced the elegant confines of his hotel room, but he barely noticed the opulent furniture or the sumptuous food, crystal and silver spread out on the linen-draped table before him. Every ounce of his attention was focused on the two men delivering the exact news he didn’t want to hear.
The men didn’t look too worried about their failure, a fact that didn’t elude Aidan. Over the years, more than one good man had made the mistake of thinking Aidan was nothing more than a computer geek and a loner.
If only they knew.
Damn them both. Damn Chase Vickers. And damn his nine lives straight to hell.
“Where did you lose them?” he asked, the softness of his voice belying the rage boiling just beneath the surface.
The man wearing the wing-tip shoes shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “The waterfront.”
“Big place,” Aidan said. “Lots of hidey-holes for the rats.”
The other man brushed at a nonexistent speck of lint on his thousand-dollar suit jacket. “Vickers might be good at what he does, but he can’t elude us forever.”
Seeing an opening to inject good news, the other man came to attention. “He’s got a pregnant woman in tow. They can’t have gotten far.”
Idiots, Aidan thought, and turned on him. “Don’t make the mistake of underestimating Chase Vickers,” he snapped. “As far as you know they could be out of the country by now.”
The man in the expensive suit looked chagrined. “We’ve got every available man working to contain the area. We’ve got perimeters set up. It’s only a matter of time before we smoke them out.”
“Time is the one thing we don’t have!” Aidan brought his fist down on the table hard enough to send a crystal tumbler over the edge.
“I’ll make some calls—”
“Calls? How the hell is making a phone call going to solve this problem you’ve created?”
The other man stepped in to take some of the heat off his counterpart. “I thought—”
“Don’t think!” Aidan shouted. “Act! I want them caught yesterday! You got that? I don’t care what you do or how you do it! Find them.”
“We’ll find them.” The man in the wing-tip shoes met his gaze and a silent understanding passed between the two men.
Within the pale blue depths of the other man’s eyes, Aidan thought he saw a smidgen of grit, of cold determination, the icy fortitude of a killer, and he was marginally relieved. He and his brothers and father had paid top dollar to these brutal men. Men who didn’t ask questions and got results no matter how distasteful the task. He hoped they hadn’t wasted their money. Aidan was starting to think he’d be better off finishing this alone.
But it was too late. Boston was a huge city. He didn’t want to be the one to tell his father Chase Vickers had gotten away.
“Find Lily Garrett,” he said after a moment. “Bring her to me.”
“What about Vickers?”
Aidan Shea smiled. From what he’d seen, big, bad Chase Vickers was like a puppy dog when it came to Lily Garrett. “Bring me the woman, and he will follow.”