Taking Control (32 page)

“Do you think you can shoot me and all your troubles will magically disappear? Newsflash, I don’t have any money, and I highly doubt that Ian is going to give you any if you kill me.”

“Of course I’m not going to kill you. Killing is very thuggish. I’m going to hurt you, Miss Corielli. And I’ll continue to hurt you until Mr. Kerr provides me the means to start anew somewhere else.” She smiles as if quite pleased with herself. “I only need Ian to believe that I will if he doesn’t do what I ask. Oh, and when we come to a stop, Travis will also have a gun. We’ll both shoot you in the leg or arm, something not terribly vital. Who knows. It’ll be like a carnival game or something. Take your chances.”

“I thought you needed me alive to lure Ian to do your bidding.” I try to be upbeat, but Cecilia has been planning this for a few days and I’m winging it. I never thought I’d need a getaway plan for a crazy lady kidnapping at gunpoint.

“You only have to be alive for as long as it takes him to wire me the money I’m going to be asking for.”

“You’ll need to send proof of life.” I’ve watched movies, and kidnappers always send those.

“Don’t you worry your pretty little head. I have that all planned out,” Cecilia answers and then laughs, a note of hysteria detectable in her high-pitched cackle. I take a little comfort in that. She’s not completely in control. Of course, that could mean she shoots me sooner rather than later.

“This is the twenty-first century. Don’t you think this will follow you? You can’t just start a new life.”

“Part of the condition of your safety and wellbeing will be to keep quiet. I have people in the city who will enforce these rules when I’m gone. Besides, your Ian, for all his ruthless ways, has far too many morals. He’s held the means to ruin Richard for years but held back. Because of me, you know.” She sounds so proud of herself. “I’d seen some irregularities in our bills. I take care of all of that. Richard is too dumb. So I planted a few seeds.” She smiles cruelly. “Ian loved his mother. Adored her really, and I made sure to mention how much I adored her as well. And how I was doing all this charitable work to save women’s lives. Ian was too wrapped up in his grief over his mother—grief and guilt—to want to hurt me.”

“You manipulated him for years.”

“I did.” She’s so proud, and I want nothing more than to smack that smile off her fucking face.

Instead, I praise the crazy lady so she doesn’t shoot me in the car. “You should have taken that to the craps table. You’re smart, Cecilia. Smarter than Richard. Why didn’t you cut your losses and take off?”

She scoffs. “You know why. We have no money. We live the way we do on credit, and now that Richard is humiliated and ruined the credit won’t be extended. I’m not cut out for a life of menial shop girl labor.”

“With your connections, you could probably have run a charitable organization. That’s hardly menial shop girl work.”

Before she has time to answer, we pull up to a five-story limestone townhome. The Howe residence, I presume. “Nice place you have here.”

It’s the wrong thing to say because Cecilia reaches out and slaps me across the face with the gun in her hand. My head hits the window. My vision is blurred, and when the door opens and Travis, a big brute, pulls me out, I’m not ready. I struggle, but Travis is too big for me. His arms band around my side, and I’m carried down into the basement.

I catch glimpses of shelving, carpet, and then I’m shoved into a wine cellar. Travis drops me into the corner, and Cecilia follows behind. The door shuts and it’s just Cecilia and me. In my struggle with Travis, I still manage to dial Ian’s phone. I don’t know if I still have a signal down here. I can only pray it connects.

IAN

W
HEN
I
STEP
INTO
MY
office suite, Malcolm Hedder is sitting in the waiting area looking like he went a few rounds down at the gym with some bruiser and lost. Rose raises both eyebrows in helpless chagrin.

“He wouldn’t leave.”

“Of course not.” I open the door to the inner sanctum. “Come on, then.”

He walks gingerly toward me. The surface bruises must be matched by others less visible. Or maybe he’s faking to make me feel sympathetic.

I drop into my chair and gesture for him to take a seat. He does, lowering himself slowly into the chair that I fucked Tiny on. I get a juvenile sense of satisfaction over that.

“Are you here to beg for mercy? You’ve timed it right.” I spread my arms wide. “I’m feeling benevolent.”

Malcolm scowls at me. “He’s is gone. I told him to leave.”

“Him being Mitch?” I ask, lowering my arms to the desk.

“Who else?”

“Was it you or your father who hired the attack on me?”

“Neither.” He looks at me with undisguised surprise. I figured it was Richard, but it didn’t hurt to ask questions when the opportunity arose. “Why would you suspect me?”

“I could say because it’s in your nature to want dangerous things. Like your sister. You did try to obtain my signature on an unsavory and unenforceable contract for services in the hopes of blackmail. But the real reason I suspected you is because you love her and you didn’t realize this until she fell in love with me. Pretty clichéd,” I mock. “Wanting what you can’t have.”

He laughs then, a hollow, aching sound, and I feel almost sorry for him. Almost. “Yeah, like a sister.”

“You love her,” I repeat.

His face falls, and as if the effort of denying himself is too strong or he’s just relieved to finally say it, he admits, “I love her.”

“I’m not unsympathetic. I’m sure I would be a broken and angry man if I had as many opportunities as you did to share this with her and didn’t, but she’s mine now. And I’ll do everything I can to protect her, even if that means limiting your contact with her. Tell me why you believe your father is gone?”

“Because I told him to go. There wasn’t any point in him hanging around.”

“I’m sorry you have shitty parents. It happens to the best of us.” It’s the most comfort I can offer.

“Maybe. Anyway, I’ll keep him out of your hair as much as I can.”

“Are you blackmailing him?” Because if he pays his father off once, he’ll have to continue to pay, and the price will go up until Malcolm can’t meet it. So clearly, Malcolm must have something to hold over his father’s head that’s more powerful than money. I can’t imagine—no, I don’t want to imagine—what that might be.

He gives me a short nod. “But I’m not telling you what I’m holding over his head, and you won’t find out—not with an army of investigators.”

“Fair enough. But if he comes calling again, all bets are off.” There’s never any peaceful end to blackmail. Why Malcolm hasn’t learned this yet is a surprise to me. In some ways, he’s almost as innocent as his sister, despite his criminal activities and propensity to fuck his stable of hookers.

“Did you get Sophie’s things from him? Tiny will want them.”

“There isn’t anything. It was all a story designed to lure Tiny into his web and then get money from you.”

“Goddammit.” I sigh. The last thing I want to do is inflict more pain on Tiny as a result of her mother’s death.

“I’ll tell her, though,” Malcolm so generously offers.

“With me.”

“What is this? Fucking supervised visitation?” he scoffs.

“Call it whatever you want, but you don’t get to see her without me being present. Ever,” I reply evenly.

“She’s my sister,” he protests.

“Stepsister,” I correct. “And you don’t have brotherly feelings toward her.” At his mulish expression, I continue, “Look at it from my point of view. Would you ever permit a man who loved your woman within ten feet of her alone? No. I can see by your face you wouldn’t. She was never a Hedder. She belonged to Sophie and now me. She’ll be a Kerr soon, and you can either be part of that world where she stands beside me and sleeps with me, or you can be on the outside. Take whatever path you want.”

I stand up. Our meeting is over. Hedder rises and lumbers after me to the door. As he exits, I call after him. “She cares for you. Don’t shut her out. You’ll regret that.”

He shakes his head but doesn’t respond.

“No more phone calls,” I instruct Rose. “I’m not getting anything done.”

“Yes, sir.” She mock salutes me.

Before I can even close my office door, my cellphone rings. It’s Jake.

“Are you sitting down?”

Instantly I know it’s Tiny. “Where is she?”

“We don’t know.”

“What the fuck, Jake?” I explode. Racing to my desk, I fumble with the bottom drawer. Before he can say another word, my line beeps. It’s Tiny.

“Thank God,” I say, but she starts speaking over me, and I realize she isn’t talking to me at all.

“What’s the point of this?” she asks.

“You need to make him stop.” That’s Cecilia Howe’s voice. Thin and weak and…menacing?

“I’m not sure what you want him to stop doing. It was your husband behind the mic.”

“Ian Kerr is a menace. He’s bought up all our debt and is requiring us to pay within the next thirty days. The house, the cars, the cabin in the Hamptons.”

I hear the rustle of paper, as if Cecilia is shaking paper in Tiny’s face.

“Do you know how humiliating it is when your credit is denied, not just once but with every single card? Those saleswomen were looking at me like I was a piece of trash. Me, Cecilia Montgomery Howe! My family came over on the goddamn boat.”

“Yeah, um, say it, don’t spray it.”

“
What
did you say?”

I press the mute button on my phone and pick up the landline to dial Jake. “Cecilia Howe has Tiny. Can we trace Tiny’s phone?”

“I’m going to need to hack into her cell phone service and see if we can pull up a GPS signal. Call a car service and come here. I sent Steve to get Marcie.”

Cursing, I ask. “How’s the traffic? Maybe I’m better off taking the subway.”

“You have her on the phone? You’ll lose her once you go underground.”

“Fuck, you’re right. I’m leaving right now.”

I don’t connect the phone to Bluetooth. I’m too afraid of losing the connection. In the drawer, I pull out a handgun. I’ve had this piece since my days on the street. It’s unregistered, and the serial number has long since been filed away. Tucking it into my suit coat pocket, I fold the jacket over my arm to disguise the bulk.

“Call the car service. I want one to be waiting when I reach the street,” I order, striding past Rose.

“What about Steve?”

“He’s busy.” I slide my card into the panel next to the elevator bank and ring for the elevator. One appears within twenty seconds, but that’s almost too long for me.

“I said, what is it that you want me to do?” Tiny repeats.

“Call Ian right now. Tell him to make everything right.”

“No.”

At first, I’m angry that she’s antagonizing Cecilia like this, but then I realize that she can’t call. She’s already on the phone with me and an incoming call might be heard on the other end. Tiny smartly doesn’t want to take the risk. The car is waiting, and I get in. “80th & Amsterdam. West side. There’s five hundred cash if you can get me there in ten minutes. Five hundred plus any traffic fines.” I waive the money at him, and he nods. I’m barely in the car before he takes off.

“What?” Sissy screeches.

“I’m not calling him and asking him to do that. Do you know what your husband did to Ian?”

“Duncan Kerr died because he was weak,” she sniffs. “And Ian’s mother. Disgusting. She actually propositioned Richard in order to make him pay off their debts.”

“But kidnapping is so much better?”

Oh for god’s sake, Tiny.

I’ve gotten lucky. The traffic up the Hudson River is sparse despite it being Monday. Plus, my driver is weaving in and out of traffic like in he’s in a Formula One race.

“What does he see in you?” I hear after a long pause.

“I give really good head.”

I pound my head against the window and let out a weak laugh.

“This isn’t funny,” Cecilia fumes.

“I agree. I’m not amused at all, but what can I do while I’m trapped in the basement of your townhouse?”

I tap the driver. “Change of plans. Take me to 64th and Lex.”

“I’m going to have to navigate Central Park traffic. That will take some time.”

“Double the bonus if you can make me forget there’s traffic. And give me your phone.”

He hands me the phone, and I give him the five hundred right then. It works because he stomps on the gas and we shoot forward. I call Jake. “She’s at Cecilia’s.”

“I’ll meet you there. Don’t do anything without me,” he warns.

“I’m not leaving her to stew in Howe’s clutches while I wait for you.”

“Do you want to have a happy life with Tiny, or one where she visits you at Riker’s?”

I disconnect in response and throw the phone in the passenger seat.

“Call him,” Cecilia shrieks. “Call him right now.”

“Okay, but I told you he’s working. You know, to save his business.”

We all hear the phone ring, and it seems like everyone—including the driver—is holding their breath. It rings three times and then Rose answers. “Kerr Inc., Ian Kerr’s office. May I help you?”

“Answer,” I hear Cecilia hiss.

“Um, just wondering if Ian is there. It’s Tiny.”

“No, Miss Corielli. He just left a few minutes ago. Wasn’t he talking to you?”

Oh shit. Oh motherfucking shit, no.

“What?” Cecilia shrieks and then there’s a scuffle.

“How long has this phone been on?”

There’s no response, and then the distinct sound of flesh striking flesh repeats itself one, two, and then three times.

I unmute the phone. “Goddammit, Cecilia, if you hit her one more time, I will end you myself.”

“You’re so clever, Ian Kerr. Did you figure out I was hitting her just from the sound alone? What does this sound like to you?”

There’s a boom and then the line goes dead.

TWENTY-SEVEN

TINY

C
ECILIA
’
S
GUNSHOT
DESTROYING
MY
PHONE
galvanizes me into action. I’ve had enough of this farce. There are weapons everywhere in here. One strike with a glass wine bottle, and she’d be out of it. I lunge at her. In surprise, she jerks backward and shoots, but I go in low and the shot careens high. As she stumbles backward, we crash into a wooden rack filled with bottles.