Rulers of Deception (32 page)

The letter from
Franco lay like a ticking time bomb on Madison’s desk. All eyes were glued to it as if it
were
a bomb, ready to explode at any moment.

Madison leaned back in her chair, oddly calm despite the spark of fear and tension in the room. Her brothers and Wyatt surrounded her, at a loss of what to say, what to do. Quinn and Lynette had left to get coffee for everyone downstairs.

Wyatt read over the letter once more, shaking his head. “Something’s off about this.”

“Shaw found out that Veronica had been making calls to Colombia,” Linc informed them. “She was probably sniffing around for information about the cartel, only they found out and tracked her down.”

Grant’s arms were crossed, his face emotionless. “There’s nothing we can do for her. We need to protect our own.”

Linc shot him a heated look. “Look, I’m the last one here who’s going to defend this bitch but we can’t just let her die.”

“Grant’s right,” Wyatt interrupted. “If Franco has her then there’s nothing we can do. She’s probably already dead.”

“So we should do nothing?” Linc argued, glaring at Wyatt. “What happens when it gets out that Veronica was kidnapped and probably killed because of us? The police have a copy of this letter, which means they’ll be knocking on our door real soon.”

“You said she was making calls to Colombia,” Grant reminded him. “As far as I’m concerned she got herself into this mess.”

“He has a point.” Wyatt settled onto the corner of Madison’s desk, staring down at the letter again. “But we can’t ignore this threat. He
will
come after the rest of you, and I’ll be the cherry on top of this fucked up cake he calls revenge.”

They fell silent, his words hanging heavy in the air. Though they had never once blamed him, Wyatt knew they secretly did. His past had brought this dangerous threat to their doorstep, and now their family, their wives, were at risk. If he knew some way to protect them he would do it without question. But the truth was he felt completely lost. What did kidnapping the reporter prove? Why didn’t Franco just go for the jugular and take him out already?

Brow creased, he picked up the letter and traced his thumb over the bloody signature. It wasn’t like Franco to take credit for one of his actions, at least not until the very end and the revenge was enacted. So why had he done so now?

Madison broke the silence, rising to her feet. “I have an appointment to get to.”

Wyatt lifted his eyes to hers, confused. “With who?”

“An old friend.” Her lips curved as she leaned in to kiss his cheek. She pulled away before he could hold her there. “I’ll see you at home later.”

With a last look at her brothers, she was gone. They looked at Wyatt, just as confused as he was.

“What’s that about?” Linc asked.

“She had nothing to say about the letter,” Grant realized, one eyebrow raising suspiciously. “She’s up to something.”

Linc snorted. “When is she
not
up to something?”

Wyatt folded the letter and tucked it into his pocket as he got to his feet. “Whatever it is, I think we all know better than to ask questions.”

With a shrug, Linc patted his old friend on the back. “Not unless we want to end up in the bottom of the ocean as fish food.”

“Or worse,” Grant mused, joining them as they left her office, closing the door behind them.

Madison chose the
casual bar and grill in downtown Manhattan not for the food, but for the dim lighting and numerous dark corners. It was a notorious hotspot for wheelers and dealers in the city, a favorite of hers when she needed to conduct a little bit of good, old-fashioned, off-the-record business. Not that it happened often, but when it did, having the benefit of discreet waiters and private booths had its advantages.

She settled into a booth and requested a bottle of Pinot Noir and two glasses from the waiter. While she waited, she lifted one of the blood red roses from a vase on the table and ran the barely-opened bloom over her palm. A dark smile came over her face as she delighted in the deadly beauty of the flower. How very much like herself, she realized. Such beauty was often misunderstood and underestimated. The razor-sharp thorns served as a reminder that even such a lovely flower was capable of drawing blood.

Her eyes lifted from the rose when she spotted her companion arriving. The smile she wore widened with satisfaction and amusement. “I have to admit, the fedora suits you.”

Jimmy slid casually into the booth, tipping the hat down with a gracious nod. His teeth flashed in a devious grin, shaded by his mustache. “Not as good as the boss, but I do all right.”

Madison continued to run the rose over her hands, her eyes intent on his. “When I came to you I didn’t expect to like you, darling. You were simply a means to an end. I’m happy to say you proved me wrong.”

“Everyone always seems surprised when I turn out to be the good guy.” Jimmy chuckled, spreading his arms over the backrest, relaxed.

“Not really good, per se,” Madison mused. “But you serve your purpose.”

“Happy to help out a beautiful lady such as yourself, doll,” Jimmy said, dark eyes twinkling. “Wyatt’s a lucky guy.”

“Yes, he is.” She set aside the rose and reached into her purse, pulling out an envelope. She handed it to him across the table. “You’ll find everything you need enclosed.”

Jimmy did a quick check of the contents and looked satisfied. “Pleasure doing business with you.”

“Likewise.” The waiter brought by the bottle of wine and two glasses. When each was filled with dark red liquid, they were left alone. Madison lifted her glass in a toast. “To revenge.”

Jimmy tapped his against hers cheerfully. “The best medicine the devil ever made.”

T
he following day, every major media outlet was stunned by the news. One of their own had been taken, kidnapped by a drug cartel, for simply doing her job. It put them all on high alert and turned their entire world upside down.

Fingers were immediately pointed at the Vassers thanks to the note received by the police. Madison wasn’t surprised. Nor was she startled to see her and her brothers’ faces splashed across the news with headlines like
Reporter Missing. Vassers to Blame.
And
Vasser Family Silent on Missing Reporter.
It cut tiny nicks in her pride, but she knew the firestorm would only last so long. Nothing in the fluid world of news was ever permanent.

Linc looked ready to pull his hair out as he watched a reporter discuss Veronica’s disappearance on the television in Grant’s office. He paced the floor and groaned every time their last name was mentioned.

Grant stood by silently, resting his hip against the desk with his arms crossed. His eyes were glued to the screen, an irritated frown darkening his face.

Madison watched them both from the sofa, unwilling to let the media hailstorm bother her. “Just turn it off, darling.”

“I can’t,” Linc snapped, continuing to pace. “I need to watch this train wreck to punish myself for ever agreeing to do that stupid piece with Veronica.”

“You didn’t know it would end this way,” Madison said simply, inspecting her nails. “None of us did.”

“We need to prepare a statement,” Grant began, only to earn an icy look from Madison.

“No. We stick with ‘no comment.’”

“They’re tearing us to shreds out there, Mads,” Linc pointed out, frustrated. “All of our hard work rebuilding our reputation just went to shit in five goddamn minutes. Not to mention McAllister’s gotta be freaking out right about now. We told him this wouldn’t happen.”

Madison pursed her lips. “We’re going to be just fine.”

“How the hell do you know?” Linc stopped pacing and sat beside her, burying his face in his hands. “I can’t just take this on faith. I need to act.”

“Just trust me.” Madison pulled his hands away, enclosing one in her own. Her eyes met his and softened. “You do trust me, don’t you?”

“I’d trust you a lot more if you’d let me in on what you’re plotting,” Linc retorted.

She sighed, turning away to look at Grant. “I wasn’t going to ruin the surprise, but if you’re this beat up about it then I suppose I can tell you.”

Grant’s eyes narrowed as she waved him over to sit beside her. When he did, she took his hand in hers. Looking back and forth at each of them, she smiled. “This has to stay between the three of us. The less people who know, the more secure this information will be.”

“Gotcha. Now get to the point,” Linc interrupted.

She squeezed their hands. “Let me begin by telling you about the little Italian man…”

Despite the cartel
threat, Wyatt couldn’t convince Madison to stay home where he could keep an eye on her. Since she insisted on living like normal, he told her in no uncertain terms that he wasn’t letting her out of sight. So he rode with her to the hotel that morning and while she busied herself upstairs with her brothers, deciding what to do about the media, he prowled the halls looking for anything suspicious.

His eyes scanned for strange guests who looked out of place, duffle bags or suitcases left abandoned, weapons hidden beneath jackets or in pockets. Walking through the lobby, the restaurants, the upper floors, the gym and business center, the conference rooms, all turned up nothing. Frustrated, though somewhat relieved, he headed down the stairs to the lobby, thinking he’d hang out and watch the people coming and going.

With all of the Vassers, including the wives, under one roof it seemed the hotel would be the place for a showdown. If Franco wanted to harm his family, the cartel would have to get through Wyatt first.

As he descended the last flight of stairs, he turned a corner and nearly ran into Raoul. The Spaniard grunted as they met eyes, animosity sparking between them.

“Where are you going?” Wyatt demanded, inspecting Raoul from head to toe. When he spotted the handgun tucked into the waistband of Raoul’s black slacks, suspicion flared in his eyes. “What’s the gun for?”

Raoul sneered, closing his white chef’s coat around his body to conceal the weapon. “Protection.”

Wyatt’s eyes narrowed. “My wife may trust you, asshole, but I don’t. If I find out you’re working for Franco—”