Deadly Justice (15 page)

She felt the blood drain from her face.  She'd known Carpenter was going after Webster for what he'd called personal reasons, but this?  She'd thought it was maybe a botched job or another drug bust that went south.  Regardless, she damn sure wasn't going to be left behind.  Whether Webster fell from her own hand or from another's, she had to be there, witness it with her own eyes. 

“You have a choice.  One, you take me with you where you at least have an idea of where I am and what I'm up to, or two, you leave and I follow.  You may think you've kept me prisoner here, but I stayed because I wanted to.  Trust me, all it would have taken was one phone call and Zach would have assembled a team to extract me.  So choose, because either way I'm going to New Orleans.”  

Carpenter scrubbed his hands through his blond hair and Andrea bit back her grin.  She had him over a barrel.  Truth was, she'd much prefer going with him and working side-by-side rather than be constantly looking over her shoulder, trying to stay one step ahead. 

“Fine.  Ms. Willie will get you a suitcase.  Anything you don't have, we'll have to pick up once we're on the ground in New Orleans because we don't have time for you to go home.  Pack up your laptop and be ready to leave in ten minutes.” 

After he barked out his orders, he turned and stomped down the hallway, following the path Ms. Willie had taken, his back ramrod straight.  Andrea slumped against the center island, her fist against her chest, feeling the racing beat of her heart.   The adrenaline rush started to fade and she felt breathless. 

Today had turned out to be a good day after all.  Richard Webster was in her sights, and soon he'd pay for everything he'd done.  She'd make sure of it. 

C
arpenter's private jet was the most luxurious and decadent thing she'd ever seen.  Andrea gawked, but what the heck, it was so over-the-top it put her brother's plane to shame.  It held seating for eight with supple butterscotch-colored leather, soft and velvety smooth beneath her touch.  The thick carpet under her feet was a rich chocolate brown.  Its lushness made her want to take off her shoes and curl her toes in its softness. 

A stewardess met them when they'd boarded, with the pilot standing by, ready to depart as soon as they settled in.  It wouldn't be a long flight, a couple of hours, but apparently his staff remained vigilant, prepared for any emergency, and definitely knew how to take care of Carpenter in style.

Minutes after boarding, she'd been handed a plate of chocolate-covered strawberries as well as sliced peaches with a small silver bowl of thick whipped cream.  Not the stuff out of a spray canister either, but the real thing, hand-whipped and extra creamy.  An ice bucket contained a bottle of champagne, placed in a specially designed well between the seats, and she was given a filled crystal flute. 

What the heck.  She planned to enjoy herself, at least until they landed in New Orleans and hostilities ensued once again.

Carpenter had been preoccupied, on the phone with his team since boarding, while they waited for clearance to take off.  They'd barely spoken since leaving his mansion, and she was fine with that.  It didn't bother her one little bit that he'd basically ignored her.  Nope, didn't hurt her feelings.

Yeah, right.  I am such a liar
. 

Having his attention over the last two days, even with them on opposite ends of the spectrum, secretly thrilled her.  They'd argued and debated their differences.  Even then, she'd wanted the big lug. 

His concentration on his call and not where he was reaching, his hand accidentally grazed against hers.  A zing of heat spread through her as their eyes locked.  She read the fire and hunger in his gaze.  It was unmistakable.  Try as he might to dismiss her, she knew he felt the same magnetic draw. 

Ending the call, he tossed the phone onto the seat beside him, and laid his head back against the headrest. 

“The team will meet us tomorrow at my office.”

“You have an office in New Orleans?” 

“My family's originally from there, so I keep a working space downtown.  Even bought the building my grandfather started the company in all those years ago.  It's being remodeled, and is nearly complete.”

When he said his family came from New Orleans, it made her realize how little she really knew about the man sitting beside her. 

“Tell me about your family.”  She unbuckled the seatbelt and curled up in the extra-wide sofa-style seat, tucking her feet beneath her and leaning back for a better look at him.  In the ambient light from the recessed overhead fixtures, his blond hair was lit with golden highlights.  Gray eyes the color of darkening storm clouds stared back at her and she felt a tug in the center of her chest.  He had the classical good looks of a Viking god, but there was a wildness to him that bespoke a dangerous edge.  Like a wolf, he reminded her of the wilderness and the freedom to run and hunt right at the edge of civilization, close and yet always apart.  Like a pack animal without a pack, a loner on the fringes. 

“My family has been in New Orleans since before the Civil War.  When the carpetbaggers invaded our fair city, we were there, and we'll be there until the end.  It's home.”

He reached up and twirled a lock of her hair around his finger, and she had the oddest urge, wanting him to plunge both hands into her hair and hold her head firmly between his palms while he ravaged her mouth with his. 

Good grief, where did that thought come from?
  Blossoms of heat spread upward from her chest to her neck and into her cheeks.  The upward tug of his lips made her blink, his amusement making her think he'd somehow read her mind.

Wow, wouldn't that be embarrassing—especially since she'd been having all sorts of naughty fantasies about the man for the last few days. 

“Um, did Carlisle get anything else from Webster's picture?” 

“He's working on it, but they've pinpointed where it was taken.  It's definitely Canal Street.  They'll have the exact address of the building he's standing in front of soon.”  Carpenter's hand dropped from her hair and she instantly missed the intimate touch.

“Listen, I know I should have been upfront with you from the beginning, but…” 

“This is the captain.  We'll be taking off momentarily.  Please fasten your seat belts, and enjoy the flight.” 

She smiled and shrugged at the interruption.  Before she could start speaking again, her cellphone rang.  She'd forgotten to turn it off when they'd boarded Carpenter's private jet.

“Hello.”

“Andrea?”  Hearing the voice she stiffened, an odd mixture of anxiety and relief flooding her. 

“Lawrence?  Where are you?  Are you okay?”  She stared at Carpenter, who'd straightened in his seat the second she'd identified the caller. 

“I'm fine.  Why aren't you in the office?” 

“Didn't you get my messages?  I've been trying to reach you for days.  Your office got ransacked, and there was blood everywhere.  I was terrified something bad happened to you.  Have you spoken with the police?” 

“What are you talking about, Andrea?  I'm fine.  I spent the weekend in the Bahamas.  Then I came into the office this morning and you're not here and everybody's acting like somebody died.  Where the hell are you?” 

She pulled the phone away from her ear and stared at it.  How dare he berate her for not being in the office, when he'd left her high and dry to handle the charity event, then his office break in, and he was mad because she wasn't there? 

“I was instructed by the police not to return to the office until you'd been located.”  She took a deep breath.  “Lawrence, in your office—there was blood everywhere.  What happened?”  She whispered the last two words. 

Carpenter got up and headed toward the cockpit and she tried to ignore him, focusing instead on the phone call.  Something seemed definitely screwy here.  Mitchell acted like nothing had happened.  That didn't make any sense. 

“Sir, didn't you notice your office is a disaster?”

“I haven't gone into my office yet.  I saw you weren't at your desk, and called you.”  She heard shuffling noises, a door opening, and his shout.  “Son of a bitch!  Everything's a damned mess here.  What did you say happened?” 

She leaned forward in her chair, resting her head on her hand, with her elbow braced on her knee.  “Lawrence, the police were at the office on Friday.  Your office had been trashed.  Everything was torn apart, destroyed.  And your bathroom—there was blood everywhere.”

“Blood?”  Ah, now he was starting to get the picture, as she heard a trace of fear in his tone. 

“When I couldn't get hold of you…”  Her voice trailed off, remembering her own panic and fear.  “Why the hell didn't you answer your phone?” 

She heard him sigh and then the ruffle of papers.  “My cellphone fell overboard when we were out on the boat.  It's supposed to be replaced tomorrow.  You still didn't answer me.  Where are you?”

Carpenter walked past her and sat back into the seat he'd vacated.  He wiggled his fingers, indicating he wanted her phone.  She rolled her eyes and said, “Hang on a minute, Lawrence.  Somebody wants to talk to you.” 

She slapped the phone into his hand and leaned back, crossing her arms across her chest and glaring. 

“Mitchell?  Samuel Carpenter.  Ms. Kirkland has been staying with me since your office break-in on Friday.  You need to contact Detective Cornell of the Dallas Police Department.  She can answer all your questions, and I'm sure she's got some of her own for you.  Ms. Kirkland is with me and we'll be out of town for a few days.”

Andrea stewed while he talked, trying in vain to catch Mitchell's side of the conversation.  She heard lots of sputtering and curses, but couldn't make out much else. 

“We'll be gone about a week.  I'm sure she'll give you a call when plans are firmed up.  In the meantime, contact Detective Cornell.  Good-bye.”

He hung up and tossed her cellphone onto the empty seat, where it lay beside his.  “No more calls.  We're ready to take off.”

No sooner had the words left his mouth than she felt the rumble of the engines, the tiny vibrations beneath her feet as they started moving.  With shaky hands, she buckled her seatbelt, cinching it tight. 

“Did Mitchell say where he'd been?” Carpenter clicked his own belt into place.  He appeared totally relaxed, as if he didn't have a care in the world, and Andrea might have bought it too, if she didn't spot the throbbing vein in his temple. 

“He said they'd been in the Bahamas.”

“They?”  He leaned over and clasped her hand, lacing his fingers with hers.  “Stop worrying, my pilot is the best.  Everything's going to be fine.” 

Darn.  He'd read her silent cues and figured out she wasn't the world's best flyer.  She was fine while they were actually in the air and gliding along, but the take-offs and landings—holy freaking terror. 

“Yeah, he said they.  I'm sure he meant Beverlee.  She's the latest flavor of the month.  Oops.  I meant…”

He laughed.  “I know what you meant.  She's one in a long line of ladies he's spent time with.  I've seen the photos.  He has a definitive type, doesn't he?”

“If you mean a silicone Barbie doll, complete with fake ta-tas, then yes, he definitely has a type.” 

“How long has he been with this latest fling?” 

“Beverlee?”  Andrea cocked her head and thought about it.  “Actually, she's lasted a little longer than most.  Almost two months, I guess.” 

Carpenter chuckled.  “Does he have a revolving door to his bedroom?  Maybe a turnstile?” 

Andrea laughed.  “Seems like it sometimes.  He's not the most—discreet man I've ever met.”

Carpenter's thumb rubbed circles against her skin, and she shifted the smallest bit in her seat.  The simple touch on her hand sent shivers along her spine.  As much as they usually butted heads, she couldn't and wouldn't deny the instinctual pull she felt toward him.  She didn't believe in love at first sight.  Lust at first sight—sure.  And her psyche definitely stood up and took notice every time she laid eyes on Samuel Carpenter.  But no one attracted her, made her feel and want things she'd never imagined like the man seated beside her.  Not even John—and she'd loved him. 

“So, where's a good place to stay while I'm in New Orleans?  I'll need to make a reservation as soon as we land.” 
There, a nice safe change of subject. 

“You'll stay with me.”

Gulp.
 

“I don't think that's a good idea.”  She'd been at his house for the last two days, alternating between wanting to punch him in the nose and jump his bones.  This roller-coaster ride of desire needed to stop, and the quickest way meant putting a little space between them.  Distance, yeah, that's the ticket. 

“It makes perfect sense.  We need to work together to find Webster.  I have an entire building sitting empty.  That includes six fully furnished apartments, not counting mine.  You'll have your privacy, if that's what you're concerned about.” 

And wasn’t that the sixty-four thousand dollar question?  Did she really want to be apart from him?  With a little distance, she might get her rampant hormones under control and be able to build up enough defenses to maintain a professional decorum.  If they stayed together, she'd end up in his bed.  There wasn't a shadow of a doubt about that. 

“That's probably the best solution.”  She gave in gracefully, keeping in mind she could always grab a hotel room if things got out of hand.

“Ms. Willie and the rest of the team will be there tomorrow, so you won't be entirely alone after tonight.”  His thumb continued the circular motion against the outside of her hand, a soothing and almost hypnotic sensation. 

Don't let him lull you into a false sense of security.  Keep your eyes on the prize, Andi.  He's your ticket to finding Richard Webster and making him pay for John's death.
 

“Does your housekeeper usually follow you from city to city?” 

“Not usually, but this situation is different.  Ms. Willie is moving to New Orleans—so am I.”

Moving?  He isn't going to be in Dallas anymore?
  Why did the thought of being so far apart bother her?  It shouldn't.  She felt a burning in her chest, and tamped it down. 
Stop it.  You barely know the man.  Once Webster's taken care of, you'll go back to Dallas and can start your life anew.