Face of Danger (30 page)

Still, the heartfelt plea hit home. “After you talk to her and Cara, I’ll decide.”

“Thanks, Lang.” She reached up and kissed his cheek. “Now if we hurry, we can get home in time to use that chaise longue.”

She winked and brushed by him on the way to the bathroom, leaving him unsure what just hit him. Hurricane Vivi. Category Five.

“The coast, as they say, is clear.”

“As
you
say,” Vivi corrected, climbing out of the blanket that covered her while they escaped the peering eyes of the paparazzi. The crowds near the gate had thinned considerably, but there were still some hangers-on, someone hoping for
another
Red Carpet Killer to somehow break the seal the FBI had put around the house and attack.

But the authorities had not yet released Sunisa Pakpao’s name. Lang told her the FBI contacts had Roman Emmanuel traveling in Europe, and they’d successfully kept the shooting on the property the other night out of the media. Interest in Cara had waned a little, as the
media waited for an ID on her assailant. No doubt with the real Cara under their nose, they’d release that name and close in tighter on whatever connection she had with Emmanuel.

Cara was not going to be a happy camper.

Vivi was probably not going to make a million dollars, nor would the Guardian Angelinos be the superstar of the security world with anyone but the FBI.

And her favorite client at the Boston Bureau would be long gone.

“It’s my dad,” Lang said.

Still situating herself in the subsize yellow outfit, Vivi frowned at him from the back, meeting his gaze in the rearview mirror. “What’s your dad?”

“My dad uses all those dated phrases I love and you hate.”

“I don’t actually hate them,” she admitted. “They’re part of your charm.”

He smiled. “He used expressions like cockamamie and malarkey and the coast is clear because he’s an old 1950s TV aficionado. Loved
The Honeymooners
when he was a kid, then shows like
Green Acres
and every John Wayne movie ever made. He loved old Westerns like
Gunsmoke
and
Bonanza
. He quoted them, and that’s where the language comes from.”

“How old is he?” she asked, stealing a peek to make sure no reporters or photographers had followed.

“Mid-sixties.”

“That’s all?” she said. “You said he was getting on, and needed assistance.”

“Well, he will be in a few years.”

In other words, Dad was just another excuse for going
to L.A. She was going to have to accept this, no matter how much her heart—and various other parts of her body—didn’t want to.

Maybe he’d come back and visit, and they could have no-strings sex. Which she already knew would make her nothing but miserable and leave her wanting more. No, thanks.

He parked in the lot at Bank of America, a few streets from the center of town, climbing out and opening her door in the back. “You have Cara’s ID?”

“In here.” She tapped an oversize handbag and pulled large sunglasses from the side pocket. “Marissa made me take it in case I got pulled over or something.”

“Or something.”

“Think I should bring the blueprints?” she asked, lifting the tubes they’d found in the bog house attic.

“Leave them for now. If we need them, I’ll come back and get them.” He put a light hand on her back, scanning the parking lot, which was deserted but for an older couple making their way to their car.

Inside, they attracted the attention of all four tellers, two customers, and one woman in a back glassed-in office, who jumped up the minute they walked in. Around fifty, dressed in banker’s blues, the woman grinned broadly and waved a pink slip of paper.

“Cara, I just got your message. I was picking up the phone to return your call.”

Vivi barely covered a shocked reaction. Cara had called her?

“But that’s moot now, isn’t it?” The woman continued toward her. “It’s so lovely to see you again.”

“And you,” Vivi said coolly, channeling everything
she’d picked up from Cara while out in L.A. “And this is Assistant Special Agent in Charge Colton Lang. My personal protection.”

The woman gave Lang a quick smile, then beamed back to Vivi. “And let me be one of the first locals to congratulate you on the Oscar, Cara. You’ve brought so much pride to Nantucket.”

“Thank you. I’ve also brought us a lot of media, I’m afraid.” She worked to keep her voice in the lower register that made her sound more like Cara as they walked back to her office, gratefully snagging a name on the door. “So I’m hoping we can get this over with as quickly as possible. Diana.”

“Of course.” Diana waved them to seats. “I’ve already pulled up your paperwork and can take you back to the conference room to sign the paperwork to release the documents.”

Lang looked out the glass partition, watching every person in the bank while Diana grabbed a file on her desk and clicked a few keys on her computer.

“Now your message said you needed to see—”

“The property deeds,” Vivi said quickly.

Diana nodded. “Yes, and as my assistant mentioned when you called, you don’t need a key for those, they’re not in a safe deposit box.”

Cara had called and arranged this same thing? And even more stunning… was a safe deposit box key the one Pakpao was looking for? One they didn’t need, after all?

“So it would have been fine to send someone else like your message said you wanted to,” Diana continued.

“I decided I could sneak out without causing a scene. So far, so good.”

“Be fast, though,” Lang said. “I already see people on cell phones. The word that you’re here will be out soon.”

“Let’s go to the conference room, then,” Diana said.

“I’ll wait here,” Lang said, still locked on the bank lobby. “Assuming you won’t be far.”

“Just in the next room,” Diana assured him.

Diana led her to a small meeting room. A table in the center was covered with a number of legal-size file folders. Vivi knew she couldn’t take any of the paperwork; Lang would kill her for that breach. Anyway, if they were illegally obtained any information they revealed would be useless in court.

“Could I have a few minutes alone, Diana?”

The woman raised her eyebrows. “How will you know which files? You have several here. And your bodyguard said you were in a hurry.”

“I want to be alone,” she replied, putting just enough diva in the voice to be convincing.

“Of course,” Diana said, backing out. “Just come out when you’re done.”

The minute she was alone, Vivi took off her sunglasses and started flipping through files, looking for the name Roman Emmanuel on anything. On the fourth file she hit pay dirt. Without taking the time to read a word, she used her cell phone to snap pictures of every page. At least they’d have something, especially since Cara was planning to come in here later and clean out.

Why?

She couldn’t take the time to figure that out now. She and Lang could talk about it later. She got fifteen pictures and closed up everything. Just as she turned to get
her purse, the door burst open, and Lang reached in and grabbed her. “Let’s go! Now!”

“Is the media here?” she asked as he yanked her into the hall and hustled her forward.

“Worse. Move it. Stay on this side of me and don’t stop at that woman’s office.”

“Why?”

“Later. Now move it—out the door!”

As they passed the glass wall of Diana’s office, Vivi caught a glimpse of a tall, bearded man speaking in a raised voice. They hadn’t made it five steps into the lobby when Diana called out.

“Cara! Ms. Ferrari! You can’t leave!”

“Yes, we can,” Lang ground out, pushing her to the door, just shy of a run.

“Stop!” A man commanded, but Lang ignored him. Still moving, Vivi glanced over her shoulder and met the gaze of the bearded man, aware that customers were staring, cell phones already out to snap pictures and take videos that would be on YouTube in an hour.

Lang covered her just as the man bolted out and ran in front of them, as tall as Lang, but not as broad.

“Back off,” Lang said, one hand up, one reaching for a gun.

“You’re not Cara,” the man said, glowering down at her.

“Out of the way!” Lang ordered, in full bodyguard mode.

The man spared one quick glance at Lang, then returned his focus to Vivi. “Who the fuck are you?”

Vivi reached for the sunglasses, only to realize she’d left them in the conference room. “Mr. Lang, please, I’d like to leave,” she said sharply.

Lang drew his gun, to a collective gasp and one loud scream from the onlookers. “I’m not at all afraid to blow your face off, buddy. That’s what she pays me to do. Get the fuck out of our way.”

“But she’s—”

Lang had the guy on the ground in one move, just as an armed bank guard launched on to the scene. “I said, leave her
alone
.”

The man squirmed, raising one hand to point at Vivi. “That is not Cara Ferrari, damn it!”

Vivi took a step back, copped an indifferent look, cursing the fact that she’d run out without the sunglasses.

“That’s enough,” Vivi said coolly. “The bank guard has the situation under control. Please. I want to leave.”

Lang got up slowly, his gun still pointed at the guy, and then he motioned to the guard. “He’s all yours.”

“That is
not
Cara Ferrari!” The man hollered again. “She’s an impostor!”

Lang hustled Vivi away while the guard positioned himself over the man. “Sir, we need you to stand up slowly.”

He didn’t move, still pointing at Cara, turning to the side to direct his comments to Diana Montgomery. “I hope to God you didn’t let her in to see any private documents, Diana! That girl right there is not fucking Cara Ferrari and I can prove it! She’s some kind of look-alike, but it’s not her!”

“Go!” Lang gave Vivi a good push toward the door and she thrust it open.

“Ms. Ferrari, wait!” Diana called back. “Please, we need to address this situation! This man is—”

“Nuts!” Vivi called over her shoulder, just as the glass
door closed behind them. Together, they bolted to the Expedition.

She didn’t stumble, no mean feat on heels and cracked asphalt, and almost kept up with him. His gun still drawn, Lang used it to point to the passenger side.

“Get in—it’s open!”

She’d barely shut the door behind her when he threw himself into the driver’s seat, jammed the key in the ignition, and peeled out.

“Holy shit,” she muttered. “Who
was
that guy?”

“Roman Emmanuel.”

She jerked like she’d been shot. “
What?
Why didn’t you just arrest him?”

“For what? He’s not a fugitive; he’s a person of interest in an open FBI investigation. We were the ones breaking the law in there, in case you forgot.” He took a breath and turned another corner, staying within the speed limit, watching the rearview mirror carefully. “So what did you find?”

“His name all over the deeds. I took pictures. Are you sure it was him?”

“I’ve seen his picture in the files.”

She thought about that, holding on while he wended through the streets of Nantucket and her head swam with possibilities, returning to the thought she had last night.

“I told you that’s who Cara is coming to talk to,” she said. “Remember, the text said Cara’s ready to talk and the response was do what I pay you to do.”

Lang looked at her. “Then Emmanuel pays Joellen.” He circled around the side street, giving them another view of the bank.

They arrived just in time to see Roman Emmanuel walking out, files in hand.

“And now he knows he doesn’t need a
key
to get them,” she said. “His name is on the files, so he can walk right out with them. Damn, I could have had that in my hand.”

Lang didn’t respond, watching the target as he walked toward town, pulled out a phone, read a text, and paused long enough to write a response. A few seconds later, Vivi’s phone beeped with a call from Chessie.

“Yeah?”

“Joellen’s texting again,” she said. “Want to hear?”

Vivi looked at the man who’d just sent a text three hundred feet from them. A bastard who sold humans into slavery and ruined children. “Oh, yes, Chessie, tell me about Joellen’s
texts
.”

Lang turned to her, obviously drawing the same conclusion: Joellen was texting Roman Emmanuel. Vivi put the phone on speaker and held it between them.

“Joellen wrote, ‘We are on our way. It’s now or never.’ ”

“And what was the response?” Vivi asked.

“Didn’t get one yet. Oh, wait, just in. Got it. The reply is, ‘I got what I needed. Meeting Pakpao’s replacement. Finish her off and I’ll meet you at LH.’ ”

LH? What the hell was that? “Now what?” Vivi asked.

“As my dad would say, let’s head him off at the pass.”

“And
then
what?”
Please, Lang, please break some rules.

“Then let’s kick ass and take names.”

She reached over and took his hand, squeezing his fingers like everything about him squeezed her heart. “Oh, Lang, I… I…”
Love you.
“I think that’s a damn fine idea.”

L
eft hand? Last home? Little—”

“Lighthouse,” Colt said as he rounded the corner, well behind Roman Emmanuel, who remained on foot. “I bet he’s going to the Brant Point Lighthouse.”

“That’s what LH is!” Vivi exclaimed, peering through the windshield. “But the ferry docks way down here in the thick of town, on Broad Street.”

“Our best bet is to follow him as well as we can.” Which wasn’t going to be easy considering the warren of narrow one-way streets that made up the heart of Nantucket’s only real town. “This place is built for pedestrians, not SUVs.”

Traffic moved at a crawl, if at all. Emmanuel kept a good pace, striding down the sidewalk without glancing into the dozens of elite art galleries, precious boutiques, and inviting sidewalk cafés along the way.

“Wherever he goes, if he talks to anyone, I want to hear him. Tape him if I can.”

He shot her a look. “The man hasn’t committed a crime.”

“Sex slavery?”

“He hasn’t been arrested or indicted. We’re looking for evidence, legally obtained, then we’ll get him.”