‘A vehicle waiting?’ Ken frowned. ‘Who orchestrated their release?’
‘None of the three Anderses would cop to it. Even before we gagged them.’
‘Then bring them to me,’ Ken said quietly. ‘They will tell me.’
‘We’re about twenty minutes out. We’re taking the long way, just in case we were followed.’
‘Why would you think that?’ Demetrius asked.
‘I didn’t see anyone. Decker thought he did, but he admitted he might have imagined it. Still, better safe than sorry. Where exactly do you want them? Your house?’
‘Yes. Bring them down into the basement. Did you get their computers?’
‘Of course. Computers, cell phones, tablets. Wallets and car keys, too. There is a wall safe, but Anders wouldn’t divulge the combination, and we couldn’t stay there long enough for me to figure it out on my own.’
‘The combination will be just one more thing for me to convince Anders to tell me,’ Ken said, then disconnected.
‘How old is the daughter?’ Demetrius asked abruptly.
‘Twenty. Goes to Brown.’ Ken kept track of his customers. ‘Why?’
‘Because I have a buyer who’d be very interested in a pretty young Ivy League hellcat.’
Ken hadn’t considered that. ‘How much?’
‘Fifty. Or more. Depends on how pretty she is. I might even get another auction going.’
‘Let’s wait and see. Perhaps the threat alone will be enough to get one of them talking.’
‘Who do you think let the two women go?’ Demetrius asked.
‘My money’s on the daughter. The wife is a piece of work.’
Demetrius rose. ‘I’ll attend to O’Bannion. Save one of the Anderses for me.’
Twelve
Cincinnati, Ohio
Tuesday 4 August, 10.15 A.M.
Marcus found his eyes locked on Scarlett’s ass as she sauntered past him as if she owned the place. He didn’t want to let go of the breath he held, still filled with the scent of her hair. Which was simple foolishness. He should be angry. He should be furious.
Just like Stone is . . . right now.Shit. Marcus registered the change in his brother’s breathing almost too late. Shifting, he put himself directly in Stone’s path and firmly held his brother’s gaze. And tried not to panic.
Because Stone was no longer looking back at him. Instead, Marcus saw nothing but rage and pain. And fear. Not now. Not in front of Scarlett. Please, Stone. Don’t do this now.
‘Stone?’ he said under his breath, hoping that Scarlett could not hear.
Stone’s eyes flickered wildly, his big chest heaving.
Dammit. I should have anticipated this. Why didn’t I anticipate this?
Because he’d been too busy gawking at Scarlett Bishop’s ass, that was why. And now there would be hell to pay unless he could calm his brother down fast.
Cops and blatant disrespect were a very bad combo in Stone’s world. And coupled with the emotional upheaval he’d been through so far . . . Scarlett had no way of knowing that cops in general were one of the triggers that set him off. But the way she’d practically skipped away from him, dismissing him as if he weren’t standing right there? That was the absolute worst thing she could have done.
Now standing with clenched fists, his face hardened with fury, nostrils flaring, Stone resembled a bull preparing to charge. Marcus could easily see his brother throwing Scarlett Bishop over one shoulder and bodily removing her from the office.
Marcus pressed his palm to Stone’s chest. ‘Easy,’ he murmured. ‘Take it easy.’
Stone’s teeth clenched. ‘She has no right to be here. Make her go.’
From the corner of his eye, Marcus could see Scarlett turning in the chair, her expression detached, yet curious. As if Stone were an animal in the zoo. The notion made him angry, but he kept his temper in check. All Stone needed to go nuclear was seeing Marcus upset.
‘I’ll take care of her.’ He moved the hand on Stone’s chest to his shoulder and gently gripped it, his other hand patting Stone’s cheek, like a coach with a boxer in the ring. ‘Breathe, buddy. Just breathe with me. In and out. Nice and slow.’
Stone obeyed, and after a few breaths he closed his eyes, visibly gathering his composure. ‘I’m all right, Marcus.’
‘I know you are,’ Marcus said softly.
Stone swallowed hard, eyes still closed. ‘Make her go,’ he whispered. ‘Please.’
The whisper was like a knife in Marcus’s heart, and just like that he was back . . . there. In the dark, Stone’s broken whisper the only thing he could hear. Make him go, Marcus. Please. Make him leave so we can go home. I just want to go home.
I will, he’d whispered back. Don’t worry. It’ll be okay. I promise.
Marcus cleared his throat. ‘I will,’ he said out loud. Confidently. He hoped. ‘Don’t worry. It’ll be okay.’
‘You promise.’ It wasn’t a question, but a flat statement of fact.
‘Yeah,’ Marcus said, struggling to keep his voice from breaking. ‘I promise. Now breathe with me. In and out. Just a little longer. That’s the way.’
Stone breathed along with him for another thirty seconds that felt like thirty minutes, finally shuddering out a harsh breath. When his eyelids lifted, Marcus could see his brother was back in control.
Stone’s mouth curved, his half-smile self-deprecating. ‘It’s okay, Houston. Self-destruct sequence aborted. Genie’s back in the bottle.’
Thank God. Marcus let himself relax, his arms dropping to his sides. ‘Good enough. Where’s Jill?’
‘In the back with Diesel. He’s watching her.’
‘That’s good, but you should probably give him a break. She makes him crazy.’
Another slow smile, this one real. ‘I know. That’s why I asked him to help.’
So relieved that his knees physically wobbled, Marcus laughed. His brother was back. All the way. For now. ‘You suck.’
‘You suck worse.’ Sobering, Stone leaned to the left so that he could see around Marcus. ‘Detective Bishop,’ he said coldly.
‘Yes, Mr O’Bannion?’ She sounded subdued, surprising Marcus into looking over his shoulder. She looked as subdued as she’d sounded. Subdued and sad. And utterly exhausted.
Marcus knew the feeling.
‘This office is private property,’ Stone said. ‘If we catch you trespassing again, we will report your ass so fast your head will spin. Next time you come, you’d sure as hell better have a warrant in your hands. Do we understand each other?’
Marcus held his breath, hoping Scarlett would just let this go, that she wouldn’t make this a pissing match. He was far too tired to play diplomat – or referee.
She nodded. ‘Yes, Mr O’Bannion. We do.’
Marcus waited until Stone had turned on his heel and walked away before letting the breath out. He closed his office door and leaned face first against it, his shoulders sagging like cooked pasta, focusing on getting his breathing regulated. Trying to figure out what the hell he was going to say to her. But she surprised him again by speaking first.
‘I’m sorry,’ she said softly.
He didn’t move away from the door. Didn’t turn to look at her. He wasn’t sure his body would have cooperated if he’d held a gun to his own head. ‘For what?’
‘For listening in. And for doing whatever I did to instigate . . . whatever that was.’
Suddenly too exhausted to move, Marcus used the last of his energy reserves to flip around so that his back was to the door, then let his knees fold, sinking to the floor. Forearms braced on his bent knees, he bowed his head and closed his eyes.
The creaking of the chair told him she’d stood up. She’s leaving. Dammit. He should look up. Ask her to stay. He needed to tell her that she hadn’t been the cause of Stone’s episode. That she’d only been the trigger. But his head felt too heavy to lift, so he stayed as he was.