Red After Dark: A Romantic Thriller (Blackwood Security Book 13) Read online

  “You think we need bodyguards?”

  “No, but…”

  “I already thought of it, okay? But the Kentucky office doesn’t have any spare manpower at the moment. There’s some sort of virus going around, and everyone’s busy puking.”

  “Just watch your back.”

  “I always do.”

  That’s what Emmy said, but if Alaric had known what was to come, he’d have handcuffed her, thrown her into his trunk, and driven them both far, far away.

  What was the time? Alaric’s stomach said one o’clock, but his watch said eleven. Why did tiredness always make you hungrier? He checked his air—down to forty bar. They should head up soon, but since Knox still had sixty bar left, Alaric was willing to push the envelope a bit.

  Then he saw it.

  Just the faintest outline to his left at first, a line too straight to be organic. The roof of a vehicle. He turned on his flashlight. For the most part, they’d been diving without lights because the beams reflected back off the silt and blinded them, but as he got closer, the glow illuminated a dark car, filthy from years underwater and covered in detritus. He tapped on his air tank with a metal clip to alert Knox.

  It was a car, but was it Piper’s car? The shape looked about right for a Honda Civic, but in the gloom, it could have been brown or grey or blue or burgundy.

  Twenty bar left.

  Alaric and Knox swam around the rear of the car, and even with the build-up of sediment around the bottom, the dent on the left-hand panel was clear to see. Knox used one gloved hand to rub at a patch in the centre of the trunk. A silver H gleamed back at them.

  Who would break the news to Piper’s grandma?

  Alaric didn’t want it to be true. He didn’t want this car to be a vibrant young woman’s final resting place. To be sure, he wiped a clear patch in the slime on the driver’s side window and peered inside. He’d expected to see a dead girl, but he still jumped when empty eye sockets stared back at him, the tattered remains of a blouse still floating around bony shoulders.

  They’d found her. They’d found Piper Simms, and now Kyla would pay.

  He gave a thumbs up to Knox—not signifying good news but rather a diver’s signal to ascend. Together, they started the slow trip to the surface, pausing for a three-minute safety stop at five metres to reduce the risk of decompression sickness. Nobody had time for a trip to a hyperbaric chamber right now.

  The next step would be raising the car. They’d warned the sheriff to be ready for that possibility, but nobody had confidence the man would actually deliver, so Blackwood had a crane on standby. They couldn’t simply winch the vehicle out—the shoreline was a sharp drop rather than a gentle slope, and Piper must have been going at some speed when she entered the water because she’d ended up thirty feet out among clusters of rocks. If they could get paint fragments that matched Kyla’s car from the dent in the back of Piper’s, plus the invoice from the auto body repair shop and a statement from Beth’s witness, it might be enough.

  But they only had two days to do it.

  Alaric forgot how tired he was as he unclipped his fins and used the rope they’d tied to a tree to haul himself up the rocky incline to the van.

  “Emmy?” No answer. “Nick?”

  The silence unnerved Alaric, and his chest tightened. For the first time in days, there was nobody watching, and even the birds had deserted them. But he began to breathe again when Nick emerged from the truck, a phone pressed to his ear.

  “We found the car.”

  “Just a second.”

  That was it? That was Nick’s reaction? Six days, they’d been looking for the damn vehicle, and a call was more important?

  Wait. Why was the call more important?

  Alaric dumped his BCD and tank, then unzipped his wetsuit. The tight neoprene felt cloying on land, even more so when it combined with the fear gripping his throat.

  “What happened? Where’s Emmy?”

  Nick looked as if he’d rather be anywhere but by the lake at that moment.

  “Uh, she got kidnapped. But chill, it’s okay.”

  Alaric gave his head a shake. Could he have decompression sickness after all? Hallucinations were a symptom, weren’t they?

  “For a second there, I thought you said Emmy got kidnapped.”

  “Yeah, she did.”

  No, that wasn’t right. Emmy couldn’t have been kidnapped. She was carrying a machete, for fuck’s sake.

  “Is this a joke?” Knox asked. “Because it’s not funny.”

  “It’s no joke. Ridley’s men have been keeping an eye on us, and I guess they realised we were getting close to the car because they decided we needed a distraction.”

  “Why are you just standing there? Didn’t you try to stop them?”

  “We need to find Ridley, and that’s probably where they’re taking her. So we figured the best idea was to stand back and give them a clear run.”

  Alaric’s guts threatened to heave their contents all over the grass. “And when you say ‘we,’ you mean…?”

  “Black and Emmy.”

  “Why the hell didn’t she tell me?”

  “Look, I suggested she should, but she said you’d try to stop her.”

  “Of course I damn well would have. Eric Ridley’s killed two dozen people in cold blood. We need to go after her. Which direction did they head?”

  Alaric had a gun in the truck. He might not have killed anyone in a few years, but assassination was like riding a bike. Satisfying and good for the planet. Dammit, why wouldn’t the wetsuit come off? He gave up trying to tug it, grabbed his knife, and began hacking through the neoprene.

  “Relax. The shadow team’s with her.”

  Oh, so that made everything okay.

  “Can she communicate?”

  “No, they knocked her out with something, but she’s wearing a tracker.”

  Alaric forced himself to breathe. He knew Emmy’s capabilities. Alert and conscious, she’d stand a good chance—no, an excellent chance—of getting herself out of whatever predicament Ridley had planned for her. But out cold? All bets were off.

  “What if she’s dead already?”

  “We’re monitoring her vitals. She’s fine.”

  “For now. If Ridley realises what you’ve done…”

  “As I said, there’s a team with her. I’m going to join them, and I’ll call you when there’s any news.”

  “No, you won’t, because I’m coming with you.”

  “Black said—”

  “I don’t give a fuck what Black said. The man’s had it in for me for years, and if he thinks I’m going to stand by while he leaves Emmy in danger, he can damn well think again.”

  “He won’t let anything happen to her.”

  Black might have been the grandmaster of three-dimensional chess, but sometimes, Alaric thought he cared more about winning than about the wife he claimed to love. And Emmy could be too gung-ho for her own good.

  “The only way you’ll stop me from coming is to knock me out too.”

  Adrenaline had heightened Alaric’s senses, and he felt Knox step closer behind him. But a barely perceptible hand gesture from Nick stopped the younger man in his tracks.

  “Fine. You can ride shotgun. But if you interfere, I’m dumping you at the side of the road because I won’t compromise Emmy’s safety by letting you go on some half-cocked rescue mission.”

  “Fine.”

  Nick nodded to Knox. “Stay here, buddy, and don’t let anyone near that car.”

  CHAPTER 27 - ALARIC

  BLACKWOOD WAS UNDERSTAFFED my ass.

  Alaric realised now that Emmy had been playing him the whole time. The reason the dive team had been so light was because she’d wanted to get abducted. All those trips to the woods to answer the call of nature? She’d basically been issuing an invitation to Ridley’s goons.

  And now she was unconscious in the back of a sedan, trundling east along I-64 at five miles per hour under the speed limit with
a rotating surveillance team of eight cars—including Alaric and Nick’s Tahoe—following behind. Black’s shadow team had seen Ridley’s men bundle Emmy into the trunk of their Pontiac, her wrists and ankles tied with yellow cord, limp with a hood over her head. They’d ditched her watch, but she’d swallowed one backup tracker and had another sewn into her bra, and both indicated her pulse was steady at fifty-three beats per minute. Alaric’s hadn’t dropped under a hundred for the three hours they’d been driving.

  “Is that your phone buzzing?” Nick asked.

  “Huh?” Yes, it was. Alaric dug it out of his pocket and almost groaned when he saw Beth was calling.

  “Hey, sweetheart.”

  “Is everything okay? Dan’s not answering her phone, and I thought you’d be finished by now.”

  “Something came up. We may be back a little later than planned.”

  “Did you find the car?”

  “Yes, this afternoon.”

  “Well, that’s great.” A pause. “I mean, it’s terrible for Piper and her family, but at least they’ll know what happened to her. How long until the sheriff can get it out of the water?”

  “We’re working on the logistics at the moment.”

  “Should I stop at the grocery store?”

  “Actually, we might just fill up on snacks. Do you think Harriet would let you stay with her tonight?”

  “Probably—you really think you’ll be that late?”

  “The special election is in less than three days.”

  Muffled voices sounded, then Beth came back. “Harriet says it’s fine to borrow her guest room. Just call if you need me for anything?”

  What Alaric needed was to hold Beth in his arms, then bury himself inside her, but he kept those thoughts to himself. And even though he hadn’t told her any outright lies about what he was doing, he hated keeping her in the dark.

  “I will. Enjoy your evening, and I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  Nick chuckled as Alaric hung up. “Nicely done.”

  Asshole. “You told your wife you were watching a football game tonight.”

  “Because I didn’t want to worry her, and Lara’s my girlfriend, not my wife. Although I’m planning to pop the question. Do you know anything about rings? Rule of thumb says to spend a month’s salary, right? But I’m not sure Lara would want to wear a boulder on her finger.”

  Alaric really wasn’t the best person to ask. The one time he’d bought a ring, it had been a three-carat purple sapphire. A diamond hadn’t seemed appropriate since that was Black’s pet name for Emmy. But what did it matter? Shit happened, so he’d never given it to her.

  “Can we focus on the task at hand?”

  “This magical mystery tour? Sure. Wanna make a bet on where we’re going? My money’s on the cabin.”

  Blackwood’s research team had been busier than they’d previously let on, and they’d come up with three possible destinations so far. Ridley had once been stationed at the Naval base in Norfolk, and Black recalled he’d owned a cabin in the area. Chances were he’d held onto it. Heading north on the map past Fredericksburg, the Devane family had a country retreat near Lorton. Kyla’s father and his father before him had used it as a base for the commute to DC. And heading south, an old newspaper article showed that Ridley’s grandparents used to live near Greensboro, North Carolina. They’d both passed away, but so far, nobody had found a record of their property being sold. The team would know more when the convoy reached Beckley—Ridley’s men would most probably turn onto I-77 if they were going to Greensboro.

  “I’m going with the Devane estate,” Alaric said. “High walls, plenty of privacy. Remember Ridley’s doing this to protect Kyla.”

  Like Nick, Alaric didn’t believe the timing was a coincidence—the enemy had snatched Emmy just before he found the submerged car. Ridley knew exactly where Piper’s body was because Kyla had told him. The pair were closer than anyone had initially suspected.

  The radio crackled. “Ana, drop back. Nick, you take over.”

  Alaric recognised some of the names spoken over the radio. Ana was Emmy’s half-sister. Xavier was another ex-boyfriend, former Israeli special forces if Alaric’s sources were to be trusted. Dan was along for the ride too, the little traitor, plus Carmen, Nate’s wife. The big mystery? Where the hell was Black? He was using his wife as bait for a psycho, yet he wasn’t in any of the chase cars. Neither was Nate, and the pair of them had been joined at the hip since their Navy SEAL days.

  They were up to something.

  Nick increased his speed a touch, passing Ana and her shadowy passenger in their battered Volkswagen. The car might have looked one ride away from a junkyard, but Alaric didn’t doubt that it was a different story under the hood. That engine was no clunker.

  The Pontiac came into view, silver in colour, two years old with no dings, dents, or scratches. Nondescript. If Alaric had needed to select a vehicle for transporting a kidnap victim, he’d have chosen something similar. Following the pattern set by Blackwood, he and Nick would stay in sight for twenty minutes or so, then swap again.

  “We’re approaching Beckley,” Nick told everyone.

  The unnamed controller took over. “Carmen, you go west on I-64. Isaiah, take I-77.”

  Carmen and Isaiah were in front of the Pontiac at the moment. Whichever route it didn’t take, that driver would turn around and join the back of the tail. In the FBI, Alaric had been involved in many surveillance operations, but budgetary constraints rarely allowed them more than three cars to rotate. Blackwood Security had thrown a lot of resources at today’s proceedings, which made Black’s absence all the more notable.

  The screen built into the dash showed the red dots of Carmen and Isaiah peeling off left and right. Where would the Pontiac go? Eeny, meeny, miny, moe.

  “Looks like we’re sticking on I-64,” Nick said for the benefit of the others.

  Virginia it was. Which meant at least four more hours of worry.

  Still, they got the chance for a bathroom break. They were fourth in the procession when the Pontiac pulled into a gas station, and the controller told Dan and Cade to carry on past. Nick slotted the Tahoe into a dark corner of the lot, which doubled as Big Al’s Discount Cars, while the Pontiac pulled up at the farthest gas pump. Ana arrived soon after, taking the spot closest to the kiosk.

  “We could get Emmy back right now,” Alaric muttered. “That would be the sensible thing to do.”

  “Wouldn’t go down too well with the big man.”

  “He’s not even here.”

  “A hundred bucks says he’s not far away.”

  “Aren’t you worried Emmy might get hurt?”

  Alaric was fucking terrified. Judging by Emmy’s steady pulse rate and lack of communication, Ridley’s men had given her a long-lasting sedative. She was in no state to fight back.

  “Always, but I’ve worked with Black for long enough to trust him. If he says to hold back, then we hold back. You’re not gonna try anything stupid, are you?”

  It was damn tempting. Alaric had a gun, but he didn’t fancy his chances against Nick, let alone Ana. In a previous life, Ana had been known as Lilith. Naz knew Lilith by reputation, and he’d warned Alaric to avoid her at all costs.

  “No, I’m not.”

  The Pontiac’s driver was a squat, tough-looking guy with a scar curving up one side of his neck. He kept his jacket on despite the heat, which meant he was probably carrying a weapon. The passenger looked more like a salesman—wiry with glasses, wrinkled slacks, and a button-down shirt. The driver finished pumping the gas, and then the pair of them headed towards the kiosk.

  “They’re gonna stop for coffee,” Ana murmured. “And the fireplug says he needs to take a slash.”

  “I’ll go,” an unknown voice said. Ten seconds later, a brown-haired guy unfolded himself from the passenger seat of Ana’s Volkswagen, stretched the kinks out of his back, and sauntered into the kiosk after Ridley’s team.

  “Rather him than me,” N
ick muttered.

  “I’d have volunteered to get that asshole alone in the bathroom.”

  “No, I mean having to spend that much time with Ana. Samuel Quinn lost his mind when he hooked up with her. The man must have balls of fuckin’ titanium.”

  That was Ana’s boyfriend? Gee, and he looked so normal.

  Staying in the front seat of the Tahoe was one of the hardest things Alaric had ever done. He itched to run over to the Pontiac, to force the trunk open and pull Emmy free. But he didn’t. Not only because of Nick and Ana and Black, but because Emmy had made her decision, and even if Alaric disagreed with what she’d done, he had to respect it. Respect her and her abilities.

  “Oh, hell.” Just when he thought things couldn’t get any worse, they did. A relic of a motorhome pulled up beside the Pontiac, blocking their view. Memories of the Emerald fiasco came rushing back. Alaric hated being out of sight of the target car, but at least the goons were still in the kiosk, chatting as they got coffee from the machine at the back then headed for one of three tables near the front window. Talk about unprofessional. Did they have no sense of urgency? The short guy laughed as he added sugar and stirred. Alaric felt as if his own sense of humour had departed for good. “Move the RV, asshole.”

  “We’re okay,” Nick said. “We can see in front and behind. Nobody’s coming or going.”

  But the newcomers’ presence totally ruled out rescuing Emmy. Until that moment, Alaric had held onto a modicum of hope that somebody would come to their senses and abort the mission, but they couldn’t very well haul an unconscious woman out of a car with an audience.

  “Yeah, great.”

  The couple in the camper seemed to be in no hurry as they climbed out. Were they a couple? Or father and daughter? The guy was in his mid-forties at a guess, and he’d forgotten to shave for at least a week. His Hawaiian shirt was out of place in Kentucky, as were his flip-flops, but he didn’t give two hoots as he chatted with his blonde passenger in front of the hood. At first glance, Alaric thought she might’ve been Emmy, but a closer look told him she was a year or two younger, her nose thinner and her chin sharper. Then she lit up a cigarette. Emmy had quit smoking years ago.