Chicago, 9:30 a.m.
The Colby Agency's conference room overflowed with staff
members. All were present for this morning's meeting, except
the newest investigator on staff. Well, the newest member
until their recent hire of Merrilee Walters. J. T. Baxley
had taken a bullet last night while serving on Victoria's
personal security detail.
Victoria Colby-Camp sat at the head of the long Mahogany
table, listening as Ian Michaels reviewed the tightened
security measures. Last night's attack had confirmed the worst.
The risk to her granddaughter's safety was no longer mere
theory or rumor. It was real.
Too real.
Increasing fear pumped through Victoria's veins with every
frantic beat of her heart. Nothing she or her people had
done so far had given them the answers for which they searched.
Every lead turned into a dead end.
Yet, someone out there continued to attempt to get to her
granddaughter.
Her loyal staff began filing out of the room. Victoria
blinked, dragged her focus back to the present. She hadn't
realized Ian had concluded his briefing.
Ian settled in a chair to her right; Simon Ruhl did the same
on her left.
These two men were Victoria's most trusted associates,
professional and personal. Yet, like her, they could only
react to the threat. Whoever was behind this had burrowed so
deeply beneath multiple ambiguous layers of disinformation
that it would take timeβprecious timeβto ferret them out.
This was the first occasion in the Colby Agency's
prestigious history that Victoria had no choice but to admit
they were mystified.
"Last nightβ" Simon kicked off the overview of the few known
facts "βan attempt was made to abduct Jamie."
The sound of a bullet shattering the windshield, killing the
driver, echoed through Victoria's mind. Three were dead,
including two unidentified males involved in the abduction
attempt. Two others had fled the scene. Though J. T. Baxley
had taken a bullet; he'd been treated and released at the
E.R. Still, the risk to his lifeβto her granddaughter'sβ had
shaken Victoria to the core.
"Have we learned anything new?" Otherwise she saw no need to
go over those horrendous details yet again. Another image,
this one of her pulling the trigger, ending the life of the
man with the gun aimed at her face, erupted in her mind.
She'd had no choiceβ¦. And still, the realization deeply
disturbed her.
Rather than answering her question, Ian and Simon exchanged
a long look. Now she understood.
"You believe it's an inside job." It pained Victoria to say
the words.
"Yes," Ian confirmed.
"That's the only way anyone could have known your schedule
for last evening," Simon clarified. "None of us want to
believe that's possible."
"At this pointβ" Ian picked up where Simon left off "βwe
have to face that undeniable possibility."
Victoria took a breath, her chest tightening with the
emotions charging through her. "Do you have a suspect?"
Her closest confidants shared another look.
She wasn't going to like their conclusion. Victoria wasn't
happy with the concept in general, but obviously the answer
was going to be even less palatable.
"J. T. Baxley," Ian stated.
J.T.? "I was at his christening." Victoria had just
graduated from university at the time. One of her dearest
friends had opted for marriage over college, and J.T. had
been her first and only child.
Simon nodded his understanding. "We fully understand that
you've known J.T. and his family for years. But he was one
of the few who had access to last night's schedule."
That was true. J.T. had been a part of her security detail
last night. And he'd paid the price.
Victoria shook her head. "This simply isn't possible." She
had sought out J.T. when his mother had relayed that he had
left the insurance industry. Victoria had hoped for years
that she would be able to lure him to the Colby Agency. Only
a few months ago that opportunity had arisen. He'd signed on
as a member of her Reconnaissance group.
"J.T. ignored the all-hands call this morning."
Simon's announcement sent a new kind of fear throttling
through Victoria. "Has anyone checked on him?" The man had
been shot for God's sake. Though the shot appeared to have
been clean, in and out of the biceps with no apparent
serious damage, there was always the chance something had
been missed. With any sort of penetrating wound, internal
bleeding was always a concern. She'd thought nothing of his
absence, considering what he'd gone through last night.
"I went to his home myself," Ian assured her. "He wasn't
there, but the door was unlocked. There was no indication
he'd slept in his bed. Nothing appeared to be missing. His
cell phone was on the kitchen counter, and his car was in
the garage."
"Then we should be concerned for his safety," Victoria
argued, "not suspicious of his participation in this
deception." The suggestion was preposterous. J.T was as
trustworthy and reliable as the passing of time.
"J.T. may not have been a willing participant," Simon
qualified. "We've learned some unsettling details regarding
his former fiancΓ©e."
A frown worried Victoria's brow. J.T. had been devastated
when his bride-to-be hadn't shown. He'd literally been left
at the altar. That had been a mere two weeks ago. Rather
than having him take on another agency assignment Victoria
had allowed him to focus on trying to find out what had
happened to the woman, who seemed to have simply vanished.
The agony of watching his desperation play out tortured her
even now as she considered his plight.
"Explain," Victoria prompted her closest confidants.
"We don't have in-depth details as of yet," Ian offered.
"But we have uncovered a number of aliases she has operated
under during the past six or seven years. From all
appearances, Eve Mattson is a serious scam artist. She may
have been playing J.T. as a part of setting the stage for
Jamie's abduction."
Victoria looked from Ian to Simon. "Find J.T. Whoever this
Eve Mattson is or was, we owe it to J.T. to give him the
benefit of the doubt. If he's in trouble, we'll back him up."
Victoria would not let J.T. down. If he had somehow been
drawn into this plan against Victoria's granddaughter, it
would have been unknowingly and certainly unwilling.
"Also, find out who Eve Mattson is," Victoria went on. "I
promised J.T. I wouldn't interfere with his search for his
missing bride-to-be, but this news changes everything. If
Eve Mattson is involved in the plan to harm my
granddaughter, I want her found and the truth extracted."
Fury detonated inside Victoria. "Whoever is behind this is
going to rue the day they picked the Colby Agency as a target."
If it was the last thing Victoria did, all involved would
pay the fiddler a hefty price for this dance.
J.T. groaned. He heard the sound⦠wanted to open his eyes,
to wake up, but his throbbing brain just wouldn't make the
necessary transition.
Wake up!
He needed to wake up. Something was very wrong.
His eyelids cracked open, but bright light slammed them shut
once more.
Wake up, damn it!
With tremendous effort his eyelids split open again.
Where was he?
His booted feet rested on a stone or concrete floor. Nylon
twine tethered his ankles to what looked like chair legs.
Raise your head.
Slowly, his head moved. Pain shattered his skull.
He groaned.
Damn.
What the hell had happened to him?
His eyes opened a little wider. Stark gray walls. He tried
to reach up and touch his head. The throbbing above his
right ear roared. His fingers fisted in reaction to the
pain. He twisted his wrists, couldn't move his hands.
He blinked, focused his gaze on his handsβ¦his arms.
His wrists were secured to the chair's arms with that same
orange nylon twine.
Okay.
Think! He was manacled to a chair. In an
empty room. He forced his head to move ever so slightly,
ever so slowly from side to side. Yep. No furnishings.
Where was the light coming from?
He moved his head back, peered through squinted eyes at the
ceiling. A single bare bulb glared at him from a high ceiling.
Basement?
Garage?
How had he gotten here?
J.T. closed his eyes and summoned the last details he recalled.
He'd been working Victoria's security detail. There had been
a shootout with four unidentified gunmen. One had escaped,
two were killed. Three counting Victoria's driver.
J.T. had been shot.
Instinctively he tried to lift his right hand to inspect his
left arm. Couldn't. Clean shot through the left biceps.
As if the memory had prompted the pain, an ache speared
through his biceps.
After J.T. was treated at the E.R., Ian had driven him home.
He'd waved as Ian drove away, walked onto his porch, and
unlocked the door. J.T. remembered going inside and thenβ¦
Pain detonated in his skull once more.
Someone had attacked him.
Fury bolted through him. He jerked at his bindings. Gritted
his teeth against the pain.
If this had something to do with Victoria or her
granddaughter, his captor should just go ahead and kill him.
No way was he giving away any information, much less
participating in whatever the scheme might be.
Sweat streamed down his face as he struggled to free himself.
He twisted, squirmed, pulled.
Eventually the fatigue and pain forced him to surrender the
battle.
He wasn't going anywhere.
The slide of metal against metal brought his head up.
Setting his jaw hard against the pain, he used his body
weight and his waning strength to shake and jerk the chair
to the right. The door was at his back. He needed to turn
around so that he could see the enemy coming. A little
farther.
Move, he commanded.
Harder and harder he jerked and twisted. The chair scooted
and swayed precariously.
As the door opened, he managed a final jerk, hauling himself
and the chair to face that direction.
A form appeared in the doorway. He blinked. Told himself to
look again.
It couldn't be.
"I see you're still alive."
Impossible.
Fury exploded in his veins. "Eve." The name left a bitter
taste on his tongue.
She closed the door behind her and leaned against it. "I
thought you'd be happy to see me."
"I don't know what the hell you think you're doing," he
growled even as the agony screamed in his skull. A shudder
rocked through him. "But if you want to survive this, you'd
better cut me loose."
She cocked her head. "Hmm⦠I don't think so."
"Who put you up to this?" The demand echoed in the deserted
room.
"No one." She pushed away from the door and started toward
him, one slow, measured step at a time. "This was entirely
my idea."
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