Courting Disaster (13 page)

The woman frowned. “Do you have an appointment with Ms. Myskina?”

“No.” I handed her my business card. “I’m an attorney. I represented an accountant by the name of Borys Dolinski. According to the estate’s information, he once did the books for Dudley Enterprises.”

Confusion flashed across her face. “Estate? I don’t understand…”

“Mr. Dolinski is deceased. His estate is investigating his accounts receivable. We are contacting all his former clients to make sure they have paid all monies due.”

“I don’t…”

“Could you please check with Ms. Myskina? The matter will only take a few minutes.”

Looking dubious, the woman rose and disappeared through a door. I released a breath and waited without fidgeting in case there was any hidden surveillance. Several minutes later the receptionist returned, followed by a tall statuesque woman. I had to tilt back my head in order to maintain eye contact with her.

Dressed in an ivory silk skirt suit, the woman had to be at least six feet with pale blond hair pulled back in a casual French twist. Diamonds frosted her ears along with a dazzling gold necklace. Times must be good for the company.

“Ms. Dent? I am Elena Myskina.” She spoke in a low, accented voice. She extended her hand. I returned the shake, almost wincing at the strength of her grip. With her physical presence, she could make a killing on the pro wrestling circuit. Elena gestured. “Let us discuss your problem in my office.”

I followed her through the door and then down the hallway. Her profile at the company had to be significant since she had a corner office. I glanced through the bank of windows that faced east with a partial view of the glistening Intracoastal Waterway and beyond that a sliver of the Atlantic Ocean.

I took the indicated chair while she sat behind a modern desk of glass and chrome. Other than a phone and an appointment book, a sleek laptop was the only item on top of the desk. The company must be paperless as there was no sign of filing cabinets. There went my image of an accountant surrounded by stacks of ledgers.

Elena tapped her manicured nails against the glass surface. “You are here about Borys Dolinski?”

I nodded.

“Yes, he assisted me with minor matters of accounting, but I can assure you that he has been paid. I have ordered a printout of our payments, which should be here shortly.”

“Thank you. I hope you were happy with his work. I know Borys took great pride in providing top client service.”

Her shrug was negligent. “As I said, we gave him mainly busy work during tax time. Nothing important.”

“Then he wasn’t responsible for any particular holdings of Dudley Enterprises?”

Elena’s eyebrow shot up. “I hardly think that’s pertinent, Ms. Dent.”

I smiled coolly at her rebuff. “Oh, but it is. As I said, the estate’s retained me to track down all his accounts. If he helped out Dudley Enterprises during tax time, then perhaps he also assisted the individual companies that are part of your corporation.”

Rebuke was sharp in her tone. “I can assure you that’s not the case.”

“Thank you. I had to ask.”

There was a light knock on the door. “Come in,” Elena called out. A young woman carrying a folder entered, handed it without comment to the financial officer and left. Elena opened it and flipped through the pages before giving it to me. “As the estate will see, all payments were made.”

“Great.” I took the folder and rose. “Ms. Myskina. Thank you for your assistance in this matter.”

“You’re welcome.” She remained seated. “You can find your way out?”

“Yes. I’ve taken enough of your valuable time.” I walked with a brisk pace to the door, but I didn’t have to worry about wandering around the hall. The receptionist stood there, poised to escort me out.

Minutes later, I exited the building and paused, taking a deep breath and releasing it slowly. I had pulled it off. A covert operation successfully completed. I didn’t know what information the printout contained, but my gut—honed from questioning witnesses—was telling me Elena Myskina hadn’t been forthright. From my quick scan, several entries on the printout were labeled Whiplash.

I glanced at my watch and, seeing the time, turned down Clematis, toward the restaurant where I was meeting Jared. The early lunchtime crowd filled the sidewalk. I pulled out my phone and for the thrill of it, turned on the camera before calling him on his cell.

When he answered, I said, “Hey, Counselor. I’m going to send you a picture of what awaits you.” I gave a jaunty smile as I held out my phone to snap a shot.

“Listen, I’m almost at Tony’s. Are you on the way?”

“I’m just leaving the office.” He sounded a bit sheepish. If I knew him, he was deep into a file and had forgotten the time.

“Good, I have a ton to tell you—” Someone bumped into me. “Excuse me,” I said with a distracted smile.

I felt a sharp prick like a bee sting in my arm. “Ow!” I swatted but my hand flailed instead. Everything around me blurred.

Then blackness sucked me down.

Unable to escape the pounding headache, I finally decided to open my eyes. But when I did manage to pry open one eyelid, I saw only darkness. My other senses began to kick into action. Sharp chemical odors assailed my nose and eyes, causing the latter to water. I blinked back the wetness. I tried to turn my head, but my cheek rubbed against a cool, slightly sticky surface…linoleum?

Where was I?

Then my memory jumpstarted. What happened? One moment I was walking along Clematis, talking to Jared, the next I had been stung by…not a bee. A needle.

A shiver racked my body. I had been knocked out, carried to this dark place. Why? By whom?

I needed to get out of here. I went to brace my hands against the floor but couldn’t move. Whatever had been injected into my body had paralyzed me. Panic bubbled from my chest into my throat, but I swallowed back the sour taste.

If it was a drug immobilizing me, then sooner or later the effects would wear off. I needed to be ready for that moment and maybe I could speed it along.

Now that I had been conscious for a while, I realized I was lying on my right side with my arm extended. My vision adjusted enough that I could also make out the dim shadows of the room. Along the wall nearest to me were jugs and bottles. I recognized one familiar shape: a bottle of bleach. Then I spotted a mop and broom. I was in a cleaning or storage closet.

I carefully inhaled the noxious fumes that permeated the entire space. I knew that smell. I was somewhere on the Rocket premises, probably on the first floor in the fertilizer manufacturing area.

I turned my head until I spotted the outline of a door. A thin thread of light seeped under the frame. I picked up on the muffled sounds of machinery and people outside the closet. It must still be daytime.

I should have a few hours to work on escaping unless…I’d already been out for several. I focused, twisting my right hand until I could see the glowing face of my watch, and squinted to make out the blurry numbers. 2:00 p.m.

I’d been unconscious almost two and a half hours, but that hopefully meant it would be a while before my kidnappers carried out the next phase of their plan.

Gritting my teeth, I shifted my hand and my fingers brushed a metal object. Once more I focused on the muscles in my hand and managed to curl my fingers around it. Something sharp pricked me. It was an earring with its prong intact.

Next I worked on my left hand. I flexed and curled the fingers until they cramped with painful pins and needles. Then I curled my arm back and forth. Finally, I pushed up into a sitting position, the effort causing sweat to sting my eyes and costing me precious energy. Although I felt like one of those rags tossed in the corner, with determination I began to massage my leg. I knew if I rested even for one second, I might keel back onto the stinking floor.

As I kneaded the calf muscle, I took stock of the room. The bad guys hadn’t been idiotic enough to leave my bag and cell phone, yet they hadn’t gagged me. That meant there was no one around to hear me if I yelled…or no one would defy the boss to help me.

Not comforting thoughts, either way. I staggered to my feet, my chest heaving, wrapped my fingers around the doorknob and turned.

It didn’t move. Instead of a safety button, the knob had a key lock. Not up to code, but somehow I didn’t think Rocket would be overly concerned about a citation. At least, as far I could tell, there was no deadbolt.

I considered the frame. Where was David Copperfield when I needed him? I’d been amazed during the magician’s performance at the Kravis Center but, unfortunately, I had no clue how he performed any of his escape routines.

“Think, Carling,” I ordered myself.

Tackling the hinges with whatever tools I might find would be noisy. If people were in the plant, the game would be over in a minute. Same for ramming the door. I needed my strength to take that chance and right now I didn’t know if I could walk five feet. If only I had a Swiss Army knife to pick the lock…

I opened my palm. Could I pick it with the earring?

The post was sturdy, and the earring itself was several long strips of dangling metal. From years of representing burglars, I knew I needed to bounce the pins inside the tumbler into an open position, but I needed something to act as the key.

Long minutes passed as I searched the small room before I thought to check my jacket pockets and found a large paperclip. With trembling fingers I straightened the prongs. Holding my breath, I slid the paperclip and one of the earring’s metal strips into the keyhole.

They fit.

Carefully, I twisted the paperclip as I jiggled the earring. The metal met with resistance and I pushed up slightly. Was that a click or my wistful imagination? I repeated the process. Another click. I didn’t know how many pins were in a tumbler so I tried again.

The doorknob turned and the door moved. “Ohmigod. I did it!” I whispered. I mentally blew a kiss to every breaking-and-entering client I’d ever represented.

Slipping the paperclip and earring in my jacket pocket, I pressed my ear against the door. The wood muffled the noise but it did sound like there was activity. Every time I had visited Rocket, the fertilizer operations had been noisy with all the machines and workers. The main entrance was beneath the business offices and I didn’t want to risk running into Greg Navka. If the loading bay doors were open, that would be my best exit route.

I took a deep breath and released it. Only one way to find out.

Slowly, I opened the door a crack and peered through it. I saw a row of large containers and stacks of bags about ten feet away. Cover. I waited a few seconds and, when I saw no movement, took another breath and said a quick prayer.

I slipped through the door. The light of the manufacturing floor was blinding, but I didn’t pause. I forced myself to run to the nearest row of containers.

Leaning against one, I took stock of my bearings. The containers appeared to hold various chemicals. The one I hid behind was labeled Ammonium Nitrate. A few feet away sat a tank and if the petroleum smell was any indication, it contained some type of fuel, possibly gasoline. Not good, particularly if someone starting shooting.

I slipped over to the next row. Catching movement out of the corner of my eye, I twisted my head, and spotted a crew loading a shipment in the cargo bay.
Damn.

Was there another exit that I hadn’t noticed before? Cautiously, I peered around the container and scanned the walls. Was that a door to the outside to my right?

I heard a yell and shrank back into the shadows. A man carrying an automatic rifle stood by the storage room. He called out again in a foreign language, possibly Russian. There was more shouting. I was going to have to make a run for it. I moved to the last row of containers. After that only the stack of bags offered any protection.

“Over there!” A second man swung his gun at the bank of containers. I ducked. A bullet thudded into the side of the container where my head had been. The report of the gun being fired reverberated throughout the building.

More shouting. “
Nyet! Nyet!
” someone screamed, and thuds erupted around me followed by a
tinging
sound like rain striking a metal roof.

God. Some idiot was shooting the fuel tank. I fled to the stack of bags and flung myself behind them. An arm wrapped around me even as someone clasped his hand over my mouth. I flailed about, hoping to make contact with my elbow.

“Christ, Carling! Hold still!” Detective Sam Bowie muttered in my ear.

I went limp. “Sam?”

“Hush. Wait for it.”

Wait for what? But I fell silent.

A new round of shouting erupted. “Hold it! This is the police!” Their answer was a burst of gunfire. A woman screamed from the second floor offices.

Then an alarm wailed to life. Emergency lights on the walls flashed.

“Run. Now!” Sam ordered as he half lifted, half dragged me. We ran toward the door I had spotted earlier. He flung it open and we ran out into Rocket’s parking lot. All around us, people spilled out of the building.

Sam yelled, “Pull back!” Jared, wearing a bullet-proof vest, appeared around the side of a pickup truck and gripped my elbow. He and Sam propelled me through the lot to the strand of trees where there was a slight swell.

A rumbling like thunder filled the air. The earth heaved. Jared and Sam, taking me with them, lunged over the swell. We hit the ground and Jared tucked me under his body.

A concussive wave swept over us followed by an ear-shattering roar. Through the crook of Jared’s arm wrapped protectively around my head, I watched as the sky rained bits and pieces of building.

Silence fell for a few moments then people’s voices swelled again. Cries for help, orders being yelled. I wiggled. “Jared, I can’t breathe.”

“Sorry.” He rolled off onto his back, draping his arm across his forehead. Blood trickled in a slender red line along his temple.

“Oh God. Are you hurt?” I scrambled to my knees and touched his arm, uncertain whether I could move it.

Sam, already on his feet, crouched down beside them. “Do you need a paramedic?”

Jared shook his head. “Thanks, I’m fine. Just a cut. Go check on your team.”

Sam flashed a grin. “You’re a mad man, Manning.” He gave me a considering look. “But I can see why when the stakes are so very lovely.” Sam’s expression grew somber. “She was locked up, Jared, right where the informant told us. She’d managed to escape before I could reach her. Carling, we’ll need to talk later.”

Giving us a salute, Sam walked away, talking on his radio.

I sat back on my heels. “What was that about?”

Jared moved a shoulder. “Not a damn thing. Sam’s just shooting off his mouth.”

I didn’t buy it so I poked Jared’s ribs. When he ignored me, continuing to study the sky, I drew my hand back. Like a flash, he reached up and, grabbing my wrist, jerked me forward. I sprawled across him. Striving for some sense of dignity, I folded my arms across his chest and then propped up my chin.

“Since when do you participate in police operations?”

He looked at me and I saw the fury burning in his eyes. “Since I had to save your ass before your recklessness got you killed.”

Stung, I was off him and on my feet in a heartbeat. “Wait just one damn minute.” I fisted my hands on my hips. “I don’t recall asking for your help. Seems to me I got myself out of that locked storage room—”

In an instant Jared was also on his feet, standing nose to nose to me. “Don’t remind me where those bastards had you,” he ground out each word.

Through the hurt dawned understanding. I reached up and touched his dirt-smeared cheek. “You were worried about me.”

Groaning, he looked upward as if searching for guidance. “Worried, Carling?” Then he leveled his gaze at me full blast, and my heart quivered. “God, that doesn’t even begin to cover what I’ve been through these past few hours.

“It was a miracle you had on your cell phone’s camera. One shot showed the man grabbing you. You dropped the phone but a good Samaritan picked it up and turned it over to the first officer on the scene. We ran the photo and were able to link the man to Navka.

“Worried?” Jared shook his head. “I’ve been scared shitless.”

His mouth covered mine and all thoughts and emotions emptied out of me, leaving only one: joy. Joy at being alive, joy at being held by Jared, joy at being consumed by his desire.

“Ahem.” A man coughed behind us.

Breaking off the kiss, Jared raised his head and glared. “What is it, Sam?”

Unfazed by Jared’s surly tone, the detective held up a slender cell phone. “I need to speak with you in private. Our mutual friend called.”

Jared’s arm tightened around me. “It’s okay. I trust Carling and she has the right to hear since she’s the one who gave us the lead.”

Sam nodded. “All right.” He moved closer and lowered his voice. “Carling, Jared and I gave the bribe list and your CD to an independent expert we trust.”

“What has he found?” I asked.

Unholy amusement glinted in Sam’s eyes and he clapped Jared on the shoulder.

“Damn, buddy. The state attorney’s office is paying better than I thought.”

Jared stiffened. “What do you mean?”

“For the last several weeks money has been flowing into a Caribbean island account in your name.”

“So we were right. I am being set up. How much?” Jared asked casually as if the two men were discussing the Marlins game.

“A hundred grand.” An officer called out to Sam and he waved in acknowledgment. “Best update your life insurance. You’re on someone’s target list.”

I’d barely managed to enter Jared’s townhouse when he drew me close as he shut and locked the door. His erection brushed against me.

Smiling, I reached behind and ran my fingers along his length. His breath came out in a hiss. One thing about Jared. He might be a boy scout when it came to the law, but in the sexual arena, he could play dirty. He slid his hand down the front of my pants, and his fingers began to work their magic.

Like a fine tuned instrument, my body reacted immediately to his touch. Widening my stance to allow him more ease of access, I leaned against his lean frame. But two could play this game.

I increased the friction of my strokes. Muttering an oath, Jared withdrew his hand, only to spin me around. Laughing, I lowered my head and nipped at his flat nipple beneath his cotton shirt.

Ignition.

With economy of movement, he stripped off my pants and panties. Not to be outdone, I popped the button on his waistband and lowered the zipper. Our hands warred with each other as we both sought to drag the jeans over his narrow hips. Then he lifted me up as I wound my legs around him. He braced me against the door and fitted himself to my slick opening. A cry of relief tore from my throat as he thrust into me.

He pumped only a few times before the deep waves of a climax roared through me. With a final surge, Jared stiffened as his own orgasm overtook him.

Boneless, I remained motionless, clinging to him, damp skin to damp skin. After several minutes, he lifted his head and gave me a crooked smile. “That was—” he paused long enough to nuzzle my neck, “—mind-blowing.”