The Heart Has Reasons (3 page)

Finally,
Keswick looked up.  “You’ve made me a very happy man.  For the past
six months I’ve lived with the fear that Larissa was dead.”  He opened a
desk drawer, withdrew a check, and handed it across the desk.

Chase
glanced at the amount and got to his feet.  “Glad to have been of
service.”

“Don’t
go yet,” Keswick said quickly.  “I got another job for you.”

Chase
lowered himself back into the chair.  Keswick took one last look at the
top photo and placed the stack on the desk.  He steepled his fingers and
peered at Chase over their tips.  “Were you really Special Forces?”

“Fourteen
years.”

“Which
means you’re a man of … special talents.”

“One
could say that.”

“I
wanna hire you for another job.  I want you to transport my wife back
here.”

Chase
gazed at him, his face carefully neutral.  “Against her will, you mean.”

“She
ain’t gonna come on her own.”

“That
would constitute kidnapping.”

“That’s
why I’m willin’ to pay you fifty grand.”

Despite
the state of the economy, the security-consulting firm he was a one-quarter
partner in was doing reasonably well.  In addition, while stationed in
Afghanistan, he’d banked nearly eight years’ worth of paychecks, so he
definitely wasn’t hurting for money.  Still, fifty thousand was fifty
thousand.  Moreover, he was bored.  Ah, Jesus, was he ever
bored.  Who would have guessed that civilian life would be so colossally,
stupefyingly tedious?

“No,”
he said finally.  “As much as I’d like to accommodate you, I can’t.”

“I’ve
given this a lot of thought.  If you keep Larissa blindfolded the whole
time, there ain’t no way she could ID you.”

“But
she’d know that you hired me.  Once the authorities had you in custody,
you’d
identify me.”

Keswick
smiled and shook his head.  “I promise you, Larissa ain’t gonna go to the
cops.  I got somethin’ on her that she’ll do
anything
to keep
secret.  She’s gonna be mad as hell, but she ain’t gonna say or do
nothin’.”

Chase
shook his head. “Sorry.  Too risky.”

“You
drive a hard fuckin’ bargain, O’Malley.  Alright then, eighty grand, forty
now and the other forty upon her delivery.”

“You
can’t be serious.”  In the isolated corner of Chase’s mind where reason
and common sense resided, instinct jangled a warning.  When something
sounded too good to be true, it usually was.  However … eighty-thousand
dollars was one hell of a lot of money.  “
If
I were to do this —
and I’m
not
saying I will — what makes you so sure she won’t simply take
off again?  You’ll have blown eighty thousand for nothing.”

“That’s
a risk I’m willin’ to take.  It’s my fault she left.  Once upon a
time, things were very good between us.  But I started doing coke, and
shit just spiraled out of control.  Despite the fact that I love Larissa
more than life itself, while I was high I couldn’t keep my dick in my
pants.  She came home early one day and caught me with three call girls.”

Yeah,
that would definitely motivate a wife to leave.

Keswick
picked up the top eight-by-ten and gazed at it longingly.  “But I’m clean
and sober now and, since she’s been gone, business has boomed.  Believe
me, when she sees how well I’m doing now, she’ll stay.  Larissa always
loved spending my money.”

The
first time Chase had seen Keswick’s wife, the thought had struck him that she
was out of Keswick’s league.  Now he understood how Keswick had bagged
her.  The woman was a trophy wife.  Since she hadn’t bothered filing
for divorce, Keswick must have had her sign a pre-nup.  He gazed up at the
framed portrait on the mantel above the fireplace.  The husband, wife, and
two children looked like the typical happy family and, perhaps, once upon a
time they had been.  Although, what did it say about a mother who would
abandon her children?  Perhaps she’d left them with Keswick knowing that
he could provide for them so much better than she could.

Eighty-thousand
was commensurate with the risk he’d be taking. 
If
he agreed do
this, he could fly back to Charleston, buy a panel truck, and acquire her at
her house after dark.  That would be the easy part.  The element of
greatest risk lay in driving her back here to California, clear across the
continent.

He
pulled his gaze from the family portrait to find Keswick gazing intently at
him.  “What’s the dirt you have on her?  The information will stay
between us.”

Keswick
blew out a resigned sigh and leaned back in his chair.  “Like thousands of
other young, beautiful women, Larissa came to Los Angeles with dreams of being
an actress.  And, like a lotta them, she hit a rough patch.  To keep
from endin’ up homeless, she made one of those low-budget fetish-porn
videos.  Several months later we met and the rest, as they say, was
history.  She did some really kinky shit in that movie and was terrified
her friends and family might eventually see it.  So, as a wedding present,
I spent a shit-load of money buyin’ up all the copies.  Of course, being a
practical man, I kept the original.”

With
a major indiscretion like that hanging over her head, the woman quite possibly
would
be willing to overlook the fact that she’d been abducted, providing it had been
done merely to return her to her husband and she hadn’t been harmed in the
process.  “Have you really thought this out?  There’s a lot of other
fish in the sea.”

“But
none like Larissa.”  Keswick reached into a drawer, pulled out four
paper-banded bundles of crisp hundred-dollar bills and handed them across the
table.  “Here’s the first forty.”

Chase
hesitated a moment, then took them.

“There’s
just one condition,” Keswick added.  “You can’t mention me, and you can’t
tell her where you’re taking her.  If you do, you forfeit the second forty
grand.”

Chase
frowned.  “Why the secrecy?”

“When
she left, she didn’t bother sayin’ goodbye to me or the kids.  She just
walked out the door and vanished.  Until now, I’ve lived with the fear
that she was dead.  I tried to keep the kids from seeing how worried I
was, but they’re a lot more perceptive than people realize.  We’ve spent
the past six months grieving.  I still love Larissa, but I wanna pay her
back for what she put us through.  Give her a little taste of her own
medicine.”

Chase
could well imagine how they’d suffered.  During the four days in which
he’d been unable to reach Michelle, his fear had been unrelenting as he’d
envisioned every horrific thing that might have happened to her.  Keswick
and the children had lived with their fear for six months.  Although his
moral code had precluded him from raising a hand to Michelle, he gladly would
have made her suffer the same mental anguish she’d put him through.

The
four bundles of bills fit neatly into two pockets of his leather jacket. 
“Keeping her in the dark won’t be a problem because, the less information she
has, the better.  But won’t she know you’re the one behind it?  Who
else would have her abducted and transported across country?”

“Yeah,
she’s gonna suspect me but, before we met, she was involved with a few unsavory
characters.  As long as you don’t confirm her suspicions, she’ll have to
deal with the fear that it might
not
be me.  Lemme give you a few
words of advice, though.  Larissa comes across all sweet and innocent, but
that’s merely a carefully cultivated illusion.  She’s a devious and
skillful liar, as well as an Oscar-worthy actress, so don’t believe anything she
tells you, and don’t trust her for a minute.  And for fuck’s sake,
be
careful. 
She carries a gun — even sleeps with it under her pillow —
and she won’t hesitate to use it.

“I’m
sure I can handle an errant housewife.”

“I’m
serious.  Watch your back.”

Jesus,
if the man were afraid of his own wife, maybe he’d be better off without her.

As
Keswick escorted him to the front door, Chase briefly wondered at the fact that
Keswick hadn’t inquired as to whether she were involved with another man. 
However, Keswick wasn’t the only injured party in this relationship.  He
shook his head in disgust.  Drugs or no drugs, the man had brought
prostitutes
into his family’s home.

As
he kicked the Harley-Davidson to a start, he felt the old, familiar excitement
throbbing in his veins once again, the same feeling he always had before a
mission.

It
felt as if he were alive again.

* * * * *

Brian Sparrow — now known as Hank Keswick
— watched the ex-Special Forces man thunder down the driveway on the
Harley.  All glossy black and shiny chrome, the bike was a powerful,
testosterone-fueled dream of a machine that would befit a predator such as
himself.  After he’d extracted his long-awaited revenge against the
miserable fucking cunt who’d shot him, he’d celebrate by buying himself
one.  And of course, the requisite black leather jacket.

He’d
always despised men like O’Malley, with their muscles, good looks, and
beautiful women.  But not anymore.  Or, at least, not as much. 
Now, thanks to the miracle of anabolic steroids, some judicious plastic
surgery, and the trappings of wealth, he almost was one of those men.

Once
the huge motorcycle turned onto the main road, Sparrow stepped back inside,
remotely closed the gate, and strode back through the mansion.  Coming here
two years ago to recuperate had been a stroke of brilliance.  He’d been
aware that his aunt was involved in the porn industry, first as a porn star and
then as a director / producer of porn, but he’d had no idea she’d done so well
for herself.

At
least financially.

By
the time he’d arrived, AIDS acquired on the job had severely ravaged her
health.  A shrewd operator always recognized an opportunity, and so he’d
worked hard at making himself indispensable.  His aunt had been grateful
to be able to turn the running of the business over to a family member, even if
that family member was practically a stranger.

Bored
with the lame fuck films his aunt had directed, he’d had the guesthouse
transformed into a bondage playhouse.  BDSM films had proved to be a much
more lucrative venture.

Crossing
to the fireplace, Sparrow took the framed portrait down from the mantel. 
Stealing the portrait of Larissa from her apartment two years ago had been yet
another stroke of genius.  Once he’d devised a scheme to get her here to
California, it had been a simple matter to have one of his cameramen Photoshop
her image together with his own and those of his sister’s two brats to create a
family portrait so convincing that Mr. Special Forces had bought it without
question.  He could only hope the threat of forfeiting forty grand would
ensure that Mr. Special Forces kept his fucking trap shut about where he was
taking her.  If he were to reveal that he was delivering her to her
husband and children, she’d be quick to explain that she had neither, which
might make him balk at delivering her.  People were fucking idiots,
allowing such absurdities as ethics and morals to govern their actions and Mr.
Special Forces appeared to be an idiot of exactly this caliber.

Two
years ago, ego had allowed him to grow careless, and subsequently, the prey had
bested the predator.  Since then, his rage had burgeoned until it was
nearly a living entity.  Now, nothing less than rivers —
oceans
—
of blood could wash away the shame his humiliation.  Gazing at the
portrait, he imagined the cunt’s beautiful face contorted with pain as a hot
crimson rain splattered across his face and hands.  As his cock grew hard
in his pants, he silently rejoiced that his long-awaited dreams were about to
become reality. 

He’d
dismissed the round-the-clock nursing staff several weeks ago with the
explanation that dear Aunt Coco was going into a hospice facility.  It was
only fitting that her biodegrading corpse now provided nourishment to the roses
she’d loved so well, as did the bodies of his last three victims.

Now,
with his new soundproofed playroom all set up, he’d be able to take his sweet
time with the cunt.

Larissa
was special — his lucky number thirteen.

CHAPTER
3

Four days later, traveling under an
assumed name, Chase boarded a flight to back to Charleston and checked into a
motel.  Early the next morning, armed with a pocket full of cash, he’d
begun cruising car lots.  Four hours later, he was the new owner of a
pre-owned cargo van with solid sides, the interior of which he then modified to
meet his needs.

He
drove by the salon to find Keswick’s wife’s vehicle in the parking lot.  A
simple phone call to the salon was all it took to learn that she’d be working
until eight.

He
went grocery shopping and, an hour before his target was due to leave work, he
drove to her house and parked at the end of the alley that intersected her
block.  After extinguishing the dome light, he quickly strode down the
alley and, ensuring he was unobserved, slipped on a pair of black leather
gloves and quickly picked the lock to the back door.