Dangerous Proposition (25 page)

Grateful to see that McGinley was still staring at the television, she walked to the end of the balcony’s wooden planks. The drop was higher than she’d expected it to be, but she imaged it shouldn’t be difficult to climb down. They were only on the second floor. She wasn’t crazy about heights, but they weren’t especially high up. She looked down, and her head spun as she caught sight of the cars driving below. From the distance at which she stood, the people on the ground looked like ants. She swallowed, taking a gigantic step back.

Don’t be a baby, Julia, she scolded herself, forcing her eyes to remain open. She walked to the railing and put one leg over the bar, then the other. With her feet wedged between the posts, she moved her left leg sideways, coming to where the cast stone column connected to the balcony below.

Julia eyed the column. If she could wrap her body around it, she could slide down like a fireman and land on the ground.

She lifted her left leg, bringing it around the side of the pole. When she was certain she had a good grip, she brought her right leg around it as well. Her shin brushed against the building, and her right shoe spun as it was kicked it off. The loafer spiraled hard and fast, tumbling against the pavement as it came in for a landing.

Julia shook with terror. Seeing her shoe from such a great distance, she did all she could to reassure herself that things could have been worse. It could have been her who’d just fallen twenty feet.

Holding her breath, she stretched her left arm as far as it would go. In one swift motion she let go of the railing and pulled her body against the column. She slid downward, keeping her head up, her bare foot raised. Her foot hit the ground, and she stood, dusting off the dirt that had collected on her jeans.

Colin thought he was so smart. Leaving her with a nursing home resident while he went off to enjoy the good stuff. She’d show him. She slid into her shoe then hurried up the street.

Julia’s confidence rose with each step. She hurried to the corner then made a mad dash down Madison Avenue.

She wasn’t entirely sure where she was going, but she had a feeling that penthouse they’d visited last night would give her some answers. Dylan Rossler had been seething with information. And she was positive that both he and the man he’d spoken to on the phone were directly connected to her dad’s disappearance.

As she quickened her pace, Julia heard footsteps behind her. Two strong arms grabbed hold of her. A hand clasped over her mouth.

What a feisty little pain in the ass Julia was, Colin thought, struggling to hold her still as she kicked at his legs with the soles of her shoes. The woman wasn’t just clever—she was strong, and she had fists of steel. But he didn’t have time for any more of her shenanigans. His patience was wearing seriously thin.

He hadn’t intended to scare her. He hated that he’d had to, but perhaps it was for the best. If Julia believed that he was Griffin Strycker, or one of the other men they suspected of kidnapping her father, maybe she’d have herself a good scare and take his warnings a little more seriously.

Tucker’s abductor—rather, his
abductors
—were out for blood. Dylan Rossler, a man he had once presumed basically harmless, had locked Julia in a room. If Colin hadn’t shown up when he had, he couldn’t begin to imagine what might have happened to her.

Much as he wanted to deny it, he couldn’t handle it if anything happened to Julia. He’d never felt that way about anyone, and the realization of it was both surreal and terrifying. Thinking about those men gawking at Julia as though she were some sort of prized lamb, he fought the desire to kill with his bare hands.

He took his hand from Julia’s mouth, briefly enjoying the feel of her warm lips. Her elbow rammed hard against his ribcage.

“Get off me, buddy!” she exclaimed, clamping his hand with her teeth. “You’re messing with the wrong chick!”

Grasping her by the shoulders, Colin turned her around sharply. Their eyes met, and Julia’s blue irises nearly popped out of their sockets. She raised a fist, ramming it hard against his stomach.

Colin coughed as the wind was knocked from his body. He clutched his intestines, taking several seconds to catch his breath before he was able to formulate a coherent sentence. “What the hell was that for?” he demanded sharply.

“Me?” Julia exclaimed. “What’s the big idea trying to scare me like that?”

“You’re lucky it was me who caught you and not one of Strycker’s men. Are you out of your mind, Julia? Those men will kill you if they find you again. They know who you are, and they know what you look like. Just once, why don’t you listen to me for a change and stay with the bodyguard for your own damned good!” Blocking the sun with his hand, Colin scanned the sidewalk. “Where’s McGinley?”

“I believe he’s enjoying that premium cable package you sprang for as we speak.”

He grunted. “I’m going to have to terminate him for this.”

“Is that all you rich people do? Terminate people? No wonder you have so many friends.”

Colin clenched a taut fist. He’d ignored Julia’s childish remarks thus far. This one had been over the top.

He hadn’t fired anyone in years. Though many had deserved it, he’d resisted the urge, as he knew all too well what happened after. Or rather, what could happen. Some things simply weren’t worth doing.

Nevertheless, he had made a colossal mistake this afternoon. He never should have left Julia alone with McGinley. It had been a hasty decision, and one made in a weak moment at that. The old man probably couldn’t protect a child from a circus clown.

“Exactly what should I do, Julia?” He crossed his arms. “If the man can’t keep you out of trouble, what good is he to me?”

“Funny you think I’m the one who needs to be babysat,” she muttered under her breath.

Colin heaved a sigh. “Clearly, I’ve underestimated you. But don’t think I intend to make the same mistake twice. McGinley’s replacement will be every bit as diligent as a bodyguard needs to be to keep Julia Dyson from walking into an early grave.”

He dialed Eric Mason, a man who was a few years younger than himself. Mason wasn’t the most proficient of ninjas, but he possessed a key quality which made him the perfect candidate in which to entrust Julia’s care. He was a flaming homosexual. “I need your help. Yes, naturally you’ll be well compensated.”

“Where?” Mason’s high-pitched voice questioned.

“Carteret Hotel. Corner of Seventy-Third and Madison Avenue.” Flashing his redheaded companion a frown, Colin said, “Now, there’s no reason to give me such a sour face. It’s your pretty little rear end I’m saving. Perhaps when all this is over, you’ll even want to…thank me for what I’ve done.”

He ducked as Julia thrust her knapsack forward, narrowly missing his scalp.

* * * *

An hour later, Colin stood before a building that clearly hadn’t been painted in years. Its side paneling was chipped, and most of the wooden slabs were broken. Sections of black had faded into gray. The steps that lead to the porch had clearly seen better days.

As he looked up into the dusty windows, a chill shot up his spine. This was the place where it had all began, the place where he’d forged the partnership that had forever changed his life. That stormy night thirteen years ago, when he’d realized that life wasn’t black and white, when he finally saw his father for the son of a bitch he really was. Here, he’d signed on to Project Gemstone, the venture that had made him a man.

In the upstairs room, he’d have secret meetings with Lucas Ramone and his men. Behind a locked door they would pass along information and count their profits. If someone passed them in the street, they might have mistaken them for college students cramming for an examination. But had they looked closer, they would have seen that they were actually power-hungry thieves, men who would stop at nothing to achieve some ultimate level of self-fulfillment.

But not him. Not Colin Westwood. He’d done what he had to protect people. To give them a second chance at life, an opportunity to thrive in a world where men lived only to destroy one another, particularly those whose backgrounds and skill sets didn’t match their own. He was the good guy, the defender of the weak. That was all he had ever tried to, or ever wanted to be. Why then was Tucker in such serious danger?

He shook his head, forcing himself to focus on the issue at hand. This place could very well be the break he needed. But it was also his last resort. Meaning that if he didn’t find what he was looking for here, he could kiss all hope of finding Tucker good-bye.

Brushing the dirt from his way, Colin peered through the glass window. There appeared to be no furniture on the first floor of the building, though the house was five stories tall and he was only looking at a couple of rooms. If he went inside, it was very possible that he would still find something of significance.

Walking up the front steps, he took the key from his pocket and inserted it into the lock. He took a deep breath and stepped through the door.

Making his way inside, he was greeted by a large space containing nothing but walls and floor paneling. The surrounding area was filthy, and it smelled of dust and mouse droppings. Much to his relief, he didn’t see any fresh footprints.

He entered the next room, which appeared to be in the same condition as the first. Walls, floor, and ceiling were covered in a thick layer of dirt. Continuing on, he discovered a series of spaces, all of which contained nothing more than the scent of musty air. There were cobwebs in the corners and on the ceilings, an indication that no one had been there in a good, long while. He started up the stairs, and his phone buzzed, causing him to shake.

Glancing at the screen, Colin saw that Ian Hauser had sent him a text message. He and Aaron Jones were standing outside.

Almost grateful for the diversion, Colin descended the steps. Glancing toward the upstairs, he shook his head then walked back the way he’d come.

Outside, Ian was hunched over on the sidewalk. He was examining the area in front of the porch steps. Another man, shorter than his counterpart, was working a few feet away.

“I think I found something,” Ian said, walking toward Colin with an outstretched arm.

“What am I looking at?” Colin asked. He stared at a dirty set of keys as it was placed into his hands.

“I found them on the ground,” Ian explained. “I could run a check on them.”

“Do it,” Colin said. He turned to Aaron, whom he was hoping had found something that was a little more of a smoking gun.

Aaron, who had been working as a dishwasher before joining Colin’s team, gestured for Colin to get beside him. Aaron was smart, and he had a knack for finding needles in haystacks. The stocky man was standing beside the garbage can on the street corner.

As Colin stepped toward it, Aaron removed something from inside. It was a bloody shirt. From the look of it, the stains hadn’t yet dried.

“The shirt was lying on top,” Aaron said, “which makes me wonder whether someone wanted us to find it. Let’s get it analyzed and see if the blood is a match for what we found in Tucker’s office.”

“There’s no need.” Colin shut his eyes. “The shirt is Tucker’s. I’d know it anywhere.”

“Goddamn,” Aaron muttered. “These pricks aren’t playing. It looks as if they gunned the old dude right in the heart.”

“Or whoever planted it here wants us to think they did.” Slipping into a pair of rubber gloves, Colin took the shirt in his hands. Fumbling his way around the fabric, he examined it for bullet holes. There were none to be found.

He tossed the shirt down, the stench of blood having thoroughly nauseated him. Staring at the red-soaked flannel, he decided that perhaps he ought to have the blood checked out anyway, as it was more than likely that someone was playing a game with him. Though, he supposed that was more probably the case, whether the blood proved to be Tucker’s or otherwise.

It didn’t seem like Griffin Strycker’s style to leave such a striking clue behind. What it did seem like was Lucas’s.

A wave of bone-chilling fear swept through Colin. The entire time he’d worked with Lucas he had slept with one eye open. The two of them had been alike in many ways, but Lucas’s greed had driven him to do things Colin would have never even have considered. Lucas had been indirectly responsible for the deaths of countless men. Though none other than Dexter Scott, the man Alec had been assigned to kill, had actually been sentenced to death, plenty had met their demise on his watch. The way Lucas gloated after someone on his team had taken care of a “problem” made Colin wonder whether the guy got some sort of demented kick out of it.

When Lucas died, he had almost been relieved. The man he wasn’t entirely sure was all there could no longer hurt him or anyone else.

But lately, he had been exhibiting the same behavior he had when Lucas was alive. Waking up in the middle of the night, talking to himself. He’d been reassuring himself for weeks that no one could have survived the fall Lucas had taken, that their body would have been so smashed up, they wouldn’t have made it until the paramedics arrived.

But he and Alec had never found Lucas’s body. And now that he was starting to experience doubts regarding his late partner’s death, he was seriously regretting not having taken the suicide climb down the ledge.

“Did you find anything else?” he asked, turning to where Aaron was standing. “In the house or out back?”

“Nothing,” Aaron answered. “But the shirt speaks for itself. Whoever put it there didn’t do it very long ago, probably just in the last couple of hours.”

“Almost as if they’re leaving a trail of breadcrumbs.” Colin spoke more to himself than his counterpart.

Looking up into the window above him, his focus became distracted. His mind drifted as the sun reflected against the glass, taking him back to that stormy night so many years ago.

“Are we keeping you from a previous engagement, Dr. Westwood?” Lucas growled, thrusting a pen across the enormous table in Colin’s direction.