Alone in the Dark (17 page)

‘What about this Decker? Can he be trusted?’

‘I don’t know. I want him watched, but I wanted to be sure that Reuben wasn’t with you before I brought anyone else into this. Get back here just in case we have to do damage control.’

‘On my way.’

‘I’m texting you the address for Jason Jackson, the man Decker sent home. Stop there first and find out what the hell’s going on with him. He better have fucking Ebola or his ass is fried for sleeping on the damn job. We’ve had an unaccounted-for tracker floating around out there for three hours.’

‘I’ll call you from Jackson’s house.’

Ken hung up and called Sean in the IT office. ‘Decker is headed your way. I’m bringing him in on this missing tracker. Give him access to the audio feed for the last twelve hours. While he’s listening to that, I want you to map the tracker’s path for the last twenty-four hours and give that to him too.’

‘You’re just going to give it to him, boss?’ Sean was always careful to call Ken ‘boss’ while they were on the job. Rarely, if ever, did he call him Dad, even when they were alone, but Ken didn’t let that bother him. Sean had always been a weird kid, always tinkering with some gadget or other. He’d already been working to bring their operation into the twenty-first century when Ken had been forced to eliminate the boy’s mother a few years before.

Sean believed his mother had run away with her yoga instructor, which was what Ken and Reuben had made sure everyone believed, including their business partners, Demetrius and Joel. It didn’t pay to allow too many people to know the details of an execution.

‘Yes, but I’ll assign someone from Security to watch him. Make sure Decker doesn’t have any recording devices on him. Call me if you see anything squirrelly.’

‘Will do.’

Seven

Cincinnati, Ohio
Tuesday 4 August, 7.55
A.M.

‘I fucking love Tuesdays.’

Marcus glanced up at the growled greeting, halting the coffee pot in his hand mid-pour. Diesel shuffled in and flopped into one of the padded swivel chairs surrounding the mahogany conference table that had been Marcus’s grandfather’s pride and joy. At six-six and a muscled two-seventy-five, Diesel made the long table look like a little girl’s tea party.

Marcus finished pouring the coffee and gave the first cup to Diesel, who guzzled it down without a flinch, despite the beverage being scalding hot. After the life Diesel Kennedy had lived, he probably didn’t have any taste buds left on his tongue, and the lining of his esophagus had most likely petrified years before. God only knew what the man’s stomach looked like, because Diesel hadn’t seen a doctor in more than ten years.

Marcus knew exactly when that had been, because he’d been with him at the time. Moral support, he’d thought back then. But Diesel hadn’t needed it, leaving the doctor’s office with no emotion on his face, not a flicker of recognition that he’d just been handed a death sentence. Instead, he had taken to drinking booze, smoking like a chimney, driving his motorcycle like a bat out of hell, and drinking coffee by the pot . . . and no one said a word to him. It wasn’t like any of those vices was likely to kill him any faster than the bullet that hovered millimeters from his heart. Too delicately placed to remove, and able to kill him at any moment.

Diesel lifted the mug, wordlessly requesting a refill. The man was all about the caffeine, because he never slept, always working hard or playing harder. And it showed.

Pot still in hand, Marcus refilled the mug and waited while Diesel downed it just as fast as he had the first. Marcus poured him a third cup, then poured himself his first and sat down. ‘Why?’ he asked, and Diesel stared blankly back at him.

‘Why what?’

‘Why do you fucking love Tuesdays?’

Diesel’s mouth curved, reminding Marcus a little of the Grinch as he’d contemplated cleaning out Whoville on Christmas Eve. ‘It’s Cal’s day to bring the doughnuts. He brings the best ones.’

Marcus snorted. ‘And I thought it would be something a lot more, oh, I don’t know. Profound, maybe.’

‘You want profound, go to church,’ Diesel drawled lazily.

‘As if,’ Marcus muttered, then decided to take advantage of the fact that they were the only ones who’d shown up for the morning meeting so far. ‘You were here last night, right?’

‘Closed up shop at two, just like always.’ Diesel’s eyes narrowed. ‘Why?’

‘Because Jill was here when I came in this morning at 4.35. She never left last night.’

Diesel’s eyes widened. ‘What the hell? I did a sweep.’

‘Of the ladies’ room too?’ Marcus asked, and watched Diesel flinch.

‘Hell, Marcus,’ he muttered like a little kid, his face turning a dark red that women found charming – if they were lucky enough to see it. Diesel was not a man to romantically entangle himself. ‘I can’t go in there. I opened the door and said, “Hey, anybody in here?” and nobody answered.’ He shuddered. ‘I can’t go in there,’ he said again. ‘There’s . . . women stuff in there.’

Incredulous, Marcus just looked at him. ‘Are you kidding me? You have stormed enemy bunkers with bullets flying all over the damn place.’ Marcus should know – he’d been shoulder-to-shoulder with Diesel every time. ‘Are you seriously trying to tell me you’re scared of “women stuff”? What the hell, Diesel? Just . . . what the hell?’

Diesel’s glare promised retribution. ‘Why would Jill not answer me?’

Marcus sighed. ‘As it turns out, she’s been secretly intercepting incoming threats and keeping the worst of them from Gayle.’

Diesel’s expression turned glum. ‘Because of Gayle’s heart attack.’

Marcus’s eyes popped wide. ‘You
knew
?’

‘You didn’t?’

‘No!’ Marcus cried, exasperated. ‘I was slightly
hospitalized
at the time.’

‘Oh.’ Diesel frowned. ‘Yeah. I forgot about that.’

Marcus leaned over the table to slug Diesel’s shoulder. ‘You asshole. I almost died.’

‘Ow.’ Diesel rubbed his shoulder, scowling. ‘For real, I thought you knew. I figured she’d told you. I thought we were all being discreet for Gayle’s sake.’

Marcus scrubbed his palms over his face. Diesel’s social skills were less than polished. ‘How did
you
know?’ he asked.

Diesel shrugged. ‘I was here when it happened. Down in the basement. When I heard all the ruckus upstairs, I came up and had a look. Medics looked like they had everything under control.’ Something flickered behind his eyes. ‘So I left them alone to do their job.’

Marcus sighed, reading between the lines. Diesel had had an ‘episode’, which meant he’d gone into a panicked shutdown mode at the sight of paramedics. Diesel was a poster child for PTSD. ‘All right,’ Marcus murmured. ‘The issue is, Jill has read the threat list. She’s been fielding all the new threats, and Gayle hasn’t seen them.’

‘That could be bad,’ Diesel mumbled.

‘Yeah, it could be. Especially if she puts two and two together.’

Diesel slumped in his chair. ‘Oh, shit.’ He met Marcus’s eyes. ‘Just tell her, man. She’s okay for a kid.’

‘I can’t. Not until I know for sure.’

‘What’s that going to take?’ Diesel drained his third cup of coffee and slammed the mug back on the table. ‘A fucking blood oath?’

Marcus rolled his eyes. ‘No. But . . . I don’t know. She bothers me.’

‘Well, you’ve always been a better judge of people than me,’ Diesel conceded. ‘How are you going to keep her contained?’

‘Stone’s watching her.’

Diesel stared a second, then snorted, then threw back his head and laughed so hard that he nearly knocked his chair over. When Stone walked into the conference room, Diesel only laughed harder, until tears streamed down his cheeks.

‘What,’ Stone asked when Diesel stopped to gasp for breath, ‘is so damn funny?’

Wiping his cheeks, Diesel started laughing again, this time more quietly. ‘You,’ he said with a snicker, ‘babysitting Miss Lush-n-Lusty.’

Marcus’s eyes widened again when Stone just huffed out an angry breath and went to get his own coffee. ‘Miss Lush-n-Lusty?’ Marcus repeated. ‘Diesel, you can’t say that here. Even if it wasn’t inappropriate and just plain . . . disrespectful, it’s legally sexual harassment, and you know I won’t tolerate that.’

Diesel shrugged his shoulders, wider even than Stone’s. ‘Whatever you say, boss.’ He sat up straight, cleared his throat and, folding his hands on the table in front of him, tamed his natural growl into a sophisticated tone any butler would envy. ‘I merely found it humorous that Mr
Montgomery
O’Bannion would have to babysit Miss Jill Ennis.’

Stone’s glare turned glacial. He hated his given name. He’d earned the nickname Stone when he’d fallen on his head as a toddler and been pronounced unhurt by a doctor who’d proclaimed his head to be harder than a stone. The nickname had stuck, because Stone was also as stubborn as a rock. ‘Call me that one more time . . .’

Diesel’s veneer cracked, his grin delighted. ‘You’re on,
Montgomery
. Just name the time and place. I’ll be there.’

‘Stop it,’ Marcus snapped when Stone opened his mouth to reply. ‘Good God, are you both five-year-olds?’

‘Ten-year-olds,’ Diesel allowed, not insulted.

‘Asshole,’ Stone grunted as he sat down with his coffee. ‘I left Jill with Bridget in Accounting while we’re in morning meeting. They’re running budgets. Even Jill can’t hurt anything when they’re running budgets. Where’s Cal with the damn doughnuts? It’s Tuesday, for God’s sake.’

‘I’m here.’ Cal trudged in and set the box of doughnuts on the table with an eye roll. ‘Here. Devour. Use napkins.’

Calvin Booker had been at the
Ledger
since the mid-sixties, working his way up from the mailroom to become Marcus’s grandfather’s right-hand man and the paper’s editor-in-chief. Cal should have retired years ago, but kept pushing the date out further and further. He said he would just be bored at home, but Marcus knew the old man had stayed on to help him. He wasn’t sure where he’d be without Cal.

‘Save a jelly for me.’ Lisette Cauldwell entered the room, followed closely by her brother, Phillip. The managing editor, Lisette was Marcus’s age. Phillip, who managed all the advertising, was in his late twenties, although he could pass for far younger. Marcus had known Lisette since high school, and her father had been a
Ledger
editor until the day he died. Lisette had earned Marcus’s trust long ago, and both she and Cal had vouched for Phillip, which had been good enough for the rest of them.

Both Lisette and Phillip had started out as reporters and would still pinch-hit from time to time when the newsroom got busy. Or when the story was so big that Marcus needed all hands on deck.

‘Close the door,’ Marcus said, and waited until everyone had coffee and the box of doughnuts had been emptied.

‘Where’s Gayle?’ Stone asked.

‘At the doc— Oof.’ Phillip cut himself off with a wince, glancing at his sister, who glared at him. ‘Don’t kick me,’ he whined. ‘That hurt.’

Stone huffed in annoyance. ‘Those two knew about Gayle?’ he asked Marcus.

‘I suppose so. So did Diesel.’ Marcus met Cal’s eyes. ‘Did you know too?’

Cal sighed. ‘Not till last week. We’ve used the same doctor for years, and I ran into her at his office. She made me promise not to tell you two or your mom.’

Marcus folded his arms over his chest, grinding his teeth. ‘What were you doing at the doctor’s office, Cal?’

Cal met his gaze unblinkingly. ‘My annual checkup.’

Marcus shook his head, pushing his anger down deep where it could explode without damaging his team. ‘You do know that I have won every damn hand of poker we’ve ever played, don’t you? Your “tell” is that look. The one on your face right there. The one you
think
makes you look like you’re
not
lying.’

Cal rolled his eyes. ‘And all this time I thought you were just cheating. Shit, Marcus.’

Stone fumed. ‘Did you have a heart attack too, Cal?’

‘No. Just a stent. I have an arrhythmia. I’m fine.’

For the second time in fifteen minutes, Marcus scrubbed his palms down his face. ‘This is fucking insane,’ he said tightly. ‘What is
wrong
with this picture? Does anyone else have secrets they’re keeping from us?’

Phillip shook his head hard and fast.

Diesel just looked at him.

Lisette sighed. ‘Things haven’t been . . . comfortable around here lately. Nobody wants to add to your stress, Marcus. Or yours, Stone. Nothing’s suffered on the business side or on the
special
business side. We’ve got your back. You know that.’

Everyone around the table nodded, and Marcus’s shoulders sagged wearily. ‘Thank you. But you don’t have to treat us with kid gloves. We need to know what’s going on around here. And that means what’s going on with all of you. We’re not going to break. No more secrets. Right, Stone?’

‘Right.’ His brother raised a brow in challenge. ‘So on that note, tell them the secret
you’re
keeping, Marcus.’

All eyes turned his way. With a sigh, Marcus retold the story, from the first time he’d seen Tala in the park, all the way up to finding Jill alone in the building that morning and assigning Stone to watch her. When he was finished, they were all twitching in anger, but it was directed squarely at him.

‘You have the
nerve
to get pissy with us?’ Lisette said from behind clenched teeth. ‘You nearly get yourself
killed
and you’re pissy at
us
?’

‘I’m not pissy,’ Marcus said. ‘I’ve never been pissy once in my life.’

‘No,’ Diesel drawled, his eyes angry. ‘Not you.’

Marcus ignored him for now. He’d deal with Diesel’s temper later. He was more worried about Cal, who’d paled, his hands trembling. ‘Cal, are you all right?’

‘Yeah. I’m fine. Absolutely peachy. I’ll order you another vest.’

‘I’m okay,’ Marcus assured him. ‘I had the paramedics on the scene check me out, but you can look at my back yourself if you want.’ Cal had changed his diapers, as the old man often reminded him. Marcus supposed he owed it to him to at least offer.

Cal shook his head. ‘No. If the medics checked you out, I don’t need to. You’re a grown man now. You’re going to do whatever you want to do, and what I say doesn’t matter.’

Marcus frowned. ‘Of course it matters. And I was going to tell you this morning. I was going to tell everyone in the world. I had Stone write up an article for the website.’

Stone slid a printed sheet across the table. ‘Make sure I didn’t leave anything out.’

Marcus dropped his eyes to Stone’s story, grateful for the momentary respite from the accusatory stares around the table. ‘It’s complete,’ he said after scanning it twice. ‘Thank you. Put it up online.’