Unleashed (10 page)

He hadn’t set out to get into the adoption business. Rivers of money poured in from his existing businesses, and he hadn’t been looking to expand. Then one of his girls, a particularly beautiful Czech girl named Nadia had ended up knocked up. Gates’s girlfriend at the time, Rochelle, said she knew of a lawyer, some rich white guy in San Francisco, who had helped her friend find an adoptive family for her baby. Her friend had received thirty thousand dollars for her healthy, blue eyed baby boy.

Gates had contacted the lawyer, James Medford, and a new business venture was born. Gates had lots of girls, beautiful, young, healthy girls, with different types of looks. There were thousands of infertile couples willing to go to any lengths to get a child. Why make them endure a risky adoption process with some random woman who might pull out of the deal at the last minute? Or worse, deliver an unhealthy baby?

Medford could guarantee to his clients that not only would they receive the baby they so ardently desired, the baby would be healthy, and as an added bonus, he would make every effort to find a birth mother who resembled the adoptive parents.

Gates had put up the capital to build a facility to house the girls, and provide the kinds of medical equipment and capabilities they would need to monitor the girls’ health and fertility. It was a low volume, extremely high margin line of business, and had proven to be extremely lucrative to all parties involved. That slick weasel, Marshall, had gotten involved in the last year. Gates hadn’t been sure about him at first, the way he’d blackmailed his way into the business by threatening to expose Medford.

But Marshall was no problem—his greed and lack of morals made him easy to control. James was the one who grew a conscience and became a problem in the last year. When he’d threatened to expose the entire operation, Gates had had no choice but to have him killed. As for his widow, Gates wasn’t particularly worried about her, but his partners were determined to take her out. Gates was happy to help, in return for a price, of course.

Marshall had come up with a genius idea of how to take care of her and make it look like collateral damage.

His phone rang. Speak of the devil, it had to be his man confirming the hit was done.

“Bad news,” Reuben said.

Gates clenched his fist as he heard the wince in the man’s voice. “How bad.”

“We fucked up,” Reuben said bluntly. No use padding the truth. He knew as well as anyone that if he fucked up he better own up to it. The only thing Gates hated worse than a fuckup was a bullshitter. “We took out the lawyer, but we missed the target.”

Gates swore, ignoring Reuben’s hurried excuses and apologies. He despised incompetence. He’d have to think of an appropriate consequence for Reuben’s failure.

In the meantime, they would have to wait for another opportunity to take care of Caroline Medford. His partners were going to have to be patient a little longer.

G
ang related revenge shooting. That’s the motive the police ascribed to Rachael Weller’s murder. “I understand your concerns, Ms. Medford,” and by
concerns
, Detective Benson meant
paranoia
, Caroline knew, “but it seems very clear this is some kind of payback for her client’s acquittal earlier this week.”

No matter what she said, she couldn’t convince the police that those bullets had been meant for her, not Rachael. Caroline tried to block out the image of Rachael’s bloody, crumpled body. She’d never call Rachael a friend, and had occasionally raised an eyebrow at Rachael’s tactics and seeming lack of any sort of moral compass. But Rachael had been a force of nature, a woman whose presence and vibrancy smacked you in the face whether you liked it or not. To see that cut off so fast, so violently, shook Caroline to her core. And Rachael had been an ally, albeit a paid one, but as her circle of supporters rapidly dwindled Caroline had to take whatever she could get.

Even Caroline was forced to admit, if she stood back and looked at the evidence objectively, it stood to reason Rachael had been the victim of a gang-style hit. The drive-by in the black SUV was the same MO used by other members of the gang in previous hits.

As recently as the day before, Furious D’s alleged victim’s brother had all but threatened Rachael on the front page
of The San Francisco Tribune
.

Yet with all that evidence Caroline knew,
knew
down to her core that she was the one who was supposed to be dead on that sidewalk. Knew it like she knew James was into something deep, something bad enough to get them both killed, even though Caroline would be damned if she could figure out exactly what.

And no one believed her.

Except maybe Danny. After his initial response at the memorial service, even his attitude earlier that day, she would have never pegged him as one of her remaining allies. But without his almost supernatural sense that danger was coming and his superhuman reflexes, Caroline would be lying dead on that sidewalk next to Rachael.

Never in a million years did she imagine she’d be riding next to him, grateful for his presence as he navigated her car through the streets of her neighborhood. Despite any old bitterness, any bad blood between them, he hadn’t left her side for a second. And when she told the detective about the note she’d received—and thrown away—Danny looked at her with his steady gray gaze and promised he’d help her find out who was behind it.

“I can’t believe I threw away that goddamned note,” she said for the hundredth time.

“Maybe it’s still in your garbage,” Danny said.

“No, they collected yesterday. It’s in some landfill somewhere.”

“Have you kept the other notes?” he asked.

“Some,” she said. “I gave the first few to the police, for all the good that did. After that I stopped handing them over.” She slumped against the seat, exhausted after the skyrocketing adrenaline of fear followed by the grueling process of giving her statement to the police.

Not to mention the press, which had descended like a swarm of locusts. Danny turned the car down her street and she swallowed back a surge of nausea when she saw three different news vans blocking access to her driveway.

“Don’t worry, I’ll get you past them.”

Danny parked her car around the corner, got out, and came around to open her door. He tucked her against his side and moved through the throng like a battering ram, using his bulk to move people aside as he barked, “No comment,” over and over. Caroline kept her head down and charged through the gauntlet, hiding her face against Danny’s chest as he propelled her up the front walkway, reporters dogging their every step.

Caroline hurriedly punched in the alarm code and they ducked inside. A local newswoman with a chin length helmet of brown hair tried to muscle her way inside. Danny planted a big hand in the center of her chest and pushed her back onto the steps. “No fucking comment.” The woman barely managed to get her hand out of the way before he slammed the door.

“Thanks,” Caroline said, hating the way her voice shook. “I don’t think I could have made it in without you.” God, when had she become so pathetically fragile? She’d been practically self-sufficient since she was a kid, had learned to watch out for herself at a young age. Between her father’s drinking problem and her brother’s run-ins with the law, Caroline’s mother more than had her hands full. It was up to Caroline to take care of herself and the rest of the family.

Her marriage to James must have made her soft. She’d gotten so accustomed to having her needs—most of them anyway—taken care of by someone else, she’d lost her ability to deal. She needed to get it back, and fast, if she was going to get herself out of trouble. No matter how reassuring she found Danny’s presence, she knew she couldn’t completely count on him. He had his own reasons for helping her, and they had nothing to do with getting her out of this mess.

She took off her coat, hung it up, and tried to pull herself together.

Danny stood watching her, that damned inscrutable expression on his face. He was so calm, so immovable, Caroline felt embarrassed at the way she’d shivered and clung to him for the majority of the afternoon. “Thanks for staying with me this afternoon,” she said. “I’m sure you have a lot to take care of, so if you need to go, we can set up a time to meet later this week to discuss—”

“I’m not going anywhere,” he said, shrugging out of his leather coat. He brushed against her as he reached for a hanger, releasing his scent into the air. The combination of leather, musk, and soap made her head swim as she breathed him in. She wasn’t sure if his decision to stay was cause for relief or greater panic. When she’d gone to see him at the memorial service, she’d convinced herself that whatever they had was dead and buried. They’d just been a couple of foolish kids who thought they could make a high school romance into happily ever after.

Caroline had told herself she was lucky that they realized they were too immature and too poorly matched before they did something really stupid. Like go through with their engagement and get married. Or God forbid, bring a kid or two into the mix.

Though at the time they broke up, Caroline would have given nearly anything to have had everything turn out differently.

She shoved the well-worn pain aside. It wasn’t the time to reopen old wounds. Her past with Danny was just that, and she needed to remember that, no matter how hot the old chemistry threatened to flare.

She led him into the kitchen and gestured for him to take a seat at the breakfast bar. “Do you want something to eat?” she asked, realizing neither of them had eaten since they went to meet Rachael. Unbidden, an image of Rachael’s broken, bloody body flashed in her brain. “I’m not very hungry,” she said, swallowing back a wave of nausea.

“I’ll help myself if I need anything,” he replied. “Right now I want to get down to business.”

“We need to get everything out on the table,” Danny said, trying to keep his attention on business, instead of on the vulnerable curve of Caroline’s mouth and the terrified look in her eye. All he wanted to do was pull her close and promise her everything would be okay. But he was afraid if he touched her all bets would be off. He took a deliberate step back. “We need to talk about what you found connecting James and my mother. And I want to see those notes.”

She nodded and started out of the kitchen. “Everything’s upstairs.” He got off his stool and she tried to wave him off. “I’ll only be a minute if you want to wait.”

“I’ll come with you,” he said, ignoring her protest. He didn’t want to give her the chance to hide anything if she were so inclined.

He followed her up the stairs to the second floor, trying to ignore the soft curve of her ass against the gray wool of her pants. All those mornings at the gym gave her body a honed, tight look. Still, her ass kept its plump roundness, making him want to reach out and give it a squeeze to see if it was as luscious to the touch as he remembered.

He tucked his hands into his pants pockets and followed her down the hall like he had no idea where he was going. The master bedroom was the same as when he’d seen it last, the silk covered comforter pulled up just so, the throw pillows arranged perfectly on the king size bed. Danny watched her walk into her closet heat pooling in his groin as he tried not to remember the last time he’d seen her in that room.

“Big place for two people,” he said idly as he stood in the doorway of her closet and watched her reach for a handbag tucked in the back corner of a high shelf.

“This was James’s house with his first wife,” Caroline said as she pulled the purse down. Danny didn’t bother to tell her he knew that already, having done such a thorough background check on James Medford he knew the guy’s blood type. “His daughter Kate was still at home the first few years we were married,” she pulled out what looked like a leatherbound book.

“You never wanted to have kids of your own?” Danny could have smacked himself for asking. Why should he care that Caroline, who’d always agreed with Danny that they should have at least three kids, hadn’t bothered to have a family. He raked his gaze down a body that was a good fifteen pounds slimmer than when they’d been together. “Then again, I guess you wouldn’t want to take the risk that kids would ruin your trophy body.”

Caroline’s face went even paler and her mouth pulled into a thin, tight line. “Not that it’s any of your business, but James had a vasectomy. Something he neglected to tell me until after we were married for five years and I started pressing him for a baby.”

Danny shoved back a pang of sympathy. “I guess that’s what you get for marrying for money.”

Hurt flashed in her eyes, but only for a split second. Eyes narrowed, Caroline straightened, summoned up some of the bravado he remembered so well from their youth, and gave him a sharp half smile. “You know what they say. Every marriage is full of compromise.” She held the leather bound book out to him. “Here.”

He looked in puzzlement at the book. Something about the light brown color and gold lettering was familiar. He flipped it open, feeling like he’d taken a kick to the chest when he read the inside front cover.

Property of Anne W. Taggart
.

10 Stockbridge Rd
.

Atherton, CA 94027

He flipped over a page, saw that the book was a planner, with calendar pages for writing in appointments, notes, and daily checklist. He forced himself to focus on the first entry.

January 1, 1991
.

Lose ten pounds

Exercise more

Volunteer more

Be more patient with Joe

Get out more

Danny realized he was looking at a list of New Year’s resolutions written in his mother’s handwriting. It was so…ordinary. Yet so surreal at the same time. How strange after all that time to be looking at his mother’s handwriting. He flipped through more pages, but couldn’t find anything, at first glance, anyway, that would explain how his mother came to be buried alongside another woman in the middle of an open space preserve.

He sat down on the edge of the bed, turning the pages as he felt Caroline’s weight settle in beside him. It was his mother’s book, but it was full of references to him and his brothers. As though Anne Taggart had no life beyond her husband and her boys. But Danny knew differently. He remembered vividly her mysterious absences, afternoons when she was unreachable and unaccounted for with nothing but a vague explanation.

“Are you okay?” Caroline asked, laying a tentative hand on his arm. “I know it must be really weird to see her handwriting after all this time.”

“Weird. Right.” Yeah, that was one way to put it. It was like a voice from beyond the fucking grave. He shook off her hand and shoved himself up from the bed. If he stayed there any longer he was afraid he was going to grab her and bury his head in her shoulder. “I’m fine,” he snapped. “I dealt with all this shit a long time ago. Now I just want to find out what happened.”

Caroline stared at him with wide eyes. Resentment squeezed his chest at her knowing, almost pitying look. Like she knew that underneath his bluster, there was a little boy still crying for his mommy.

Fat fucking chance. “Where did you find this?” he finally asked, careful to keep any shred of emotion from creeping into his voice.

“It was in a box of books Kate had taken from her closet. She brought back a bunch of stuff last week to put in storage.”

“And you’ve never seen this before? In the entire time you were married to James?”

Caroline shook her head.

Danny’s eyes narrowed. “Kind of convenient that you only came across it after he was dead.”

Caroline glared right back at him. “I would never keep something like this from you.”

“Not even if it meant protecting your husband?”

“Danny, I would never do that to you and your family,” she said, her voice vibrating with grief that sounded real. He turned away so he could listen without being distracted by those big brown eyes and trembling pink lips. “I know what you went through when your mother disappeared. I never would have kept anything from you, not even to protect my husband. You have to believe that.”

Danny nodded. He could hear the truth in her voice and let it go. “But you would use it as bait to get me to help you.”

Color flooded her face. “Desperate times,” she said, then raised her eyes to his. “I would have given it to you eventually. But I was hoping you would help me.”

He smiled without humor. “Maybe you should be careful what you wish for. So tell me where you found it.”

“It was only after,” she hesitated a few seconds, “he was killed that I really went through everything.” She braced her hands on the mattress and leaned back with a sigh. “James saved everything, and I mean everything. We went through all of it, trying to find something that would give us a clue as to who would want him dead. But we never found anything”

“Who’s we?” Danny asked.