CLOSE TO YOU: Enhanced (Lost Hearts) (20 page)

             
"He went for it," Jason said.

             
Hope's face moved into sight beside Zack's. She had recently added blond highlights to her brown hair, and a new chin-length cut accented her cheekbones and almost made a man forget the intelligence in her beautiful blue eyes.

             
Zack hated the cut.

             
Hope told him to get used to it—she respected his opinion, but not about feminine hairstyles. Jason had known her for sixteen years, and he still grinned whenever he saw Zack and Hope together—the conservative, self-contained executive and the liberal, strong-willed artist.

             
"How could he be so stupid as to believe you would betray Zack after all these years?" Hope asked incredulously.

             
"Because we've been very careful to set up a false trail of previous betrayals for Jason, both personal and professional," Zack reminded her.

             
"And because that's the kind of man George Oberlin is, so of course that's the kind of man he expects to find wherever he looks." The voice of Pepper Graham, Hope's younger sister, echoed across the connection, and she moved into camera range.

             
Her long black hair hung in waves around her face, and her smile reached her green eyes. She was much more street-savvy than Hope, much more inclined to recognize and accept the dark side of human nature.

             
Not surprising, since at the age of nine she'd been separated from her siblings and sent to live in foster homes. Although she never talked about that time, Jason got the feeling some of the homes had been cruel and Pepper's existence had been lonely. By the time Hope had found her, twenty-four-year-old Pepper had seen far too much of the grim side of life.

             
Now, eight years later, she lived on a ranch in Idaho with her husband, Dan Graham, their three children, a thousand head of cattle, and a highly successful mailorder-catalog gardening business. Urban-bred Jason considered that his idea of hell, but Pepper looked happy. Very happy.

             
When the family had been together brainstorming ways to twist Oberlin's ass into a pretzel, it was Pepper who came up with the plan they pursued.

             
Jason admired Pepper a lot.

             
"In your estimation, does Oberlin realize that if he's successful in bringing down Givens Industries, it will be a collapse as damaging to the country and to the investors as the Enron debacle?" Jason knew Zack wanted to be very, very clear on this matter, because for Zack, the idea that someone could so betray their country and its people was an anathema.

             
"If I were you, I'd check to see if he's bought competitors' stock," Jason advised.               "You already know the answer, Zack," Pepper said. "Oberlin is a thief—and worse."

             
Everyone shared a moment of silence. They were so close to their goal of righting the wrong that had been committed long ago.

             
Twenty-three years ago, Bennett Prescott had been the minister of a church in Hobart, Texas. He and his wife, Lana, had disappeared and were found dead, their car a wreck, apparently on their way to Mexico, apparently abandoning their children.

             
Within days the church board discovered the treasury had disappeared with them. The Prescotts were declared criminals, and their children, three daughters and one foster son, disappeared from Hobart. Over the years, Hope, Pepper, and Gabriel had suffered, but eventually they had been reunited.

             
Yet their baby sister, Caitlin, had disappeared. No one knew where. Despite the best efforts of the reunited Prescott siblings, no trace of her had been uncovered.

             
It had all come down to one man. George Oberlin had been on the church board when Bennett and Lana Prescott had disappeared. Not long after, George Oberlin had begun his run for the Texas State Senate with a formidable campaign chest, and although he had documented donors, a brief Givens investigation proved he had lied about his financial backers. In fact, his father-in-law, a crusty rancher with fire in his eyes, swore a blue streak at the mention of Oberlin's name.

             
Yet according to the campaign documents, he had provided Oberlin half his campaign funds.

             
Griswald, the Givens family butler, Gabriel, and Jason had proved that George Oberlin had stolen the church treasury and been the driving force in separating the children.

             
They suspected he had had the courthouse burned down to destroy their records. And he had a way of commanding the silence of everyone in Hobart.

             
The focus for Zack and Hope, for Dan and Pepper, and for Gabriel, was finding the last child, Caitlin.

             
But the search always ended at George Oberlin, and George Oberlin would not cooperate, for to do so would be to admit culpability.

             
So with the help of Jason, Givens Industry chief legal counsel, they had put together a scheme brilliant in its simplicity. They had tricked Oberlin into thinking he could blackmail Jason, get him to do his bidding, and bring down Givens Industry. Oberlin was motivated to do it. Somehow he had to hide his wickedness. If he didn't, he would never be able to run for the U.S. Senate.

             
Like any man who let greed and evil rule his life, Oberlin couldn't see beyond the obvious. He didn't realize that not only could he manipulate, but he could be manipulated, and blackmailed, and destroyed.

             
When they had him trapped, they would offer a deal—provide them with Caitlin's whereabouts, or face a scandal big enough to destroy his chance at winning national office.

             
"I so wish we could send him to prison," Hope muttered.

             
Jason laughed bitterly. "The man's an octopus. He's got tentacles everywhere. There're plenty of people who'd like to see him brought down, but they don't have the guts to face the consequences of helping us."

             
"We couldn't find a judge in Texas to convict him," Zack said.

             
"But, darling, if we can find out that Caitlin's alive and that she's happy, that would put our minds at rest." Pepper rubbed Hope's back.

             
Jason saw the glow of commitment light Hope's face. "And if we could be reunited with her . . ." Hope swallowed.

             
This family had waited so long to be whole. Too long. Jason almost couldn't stand to see the agony of their uncertainty.

             
While the women struggled with their emotions, Gabriel's face flashed across their screens. "Two minutes," he warned.

             
"We've got to finish up," Zack said.

             
"I wish we could be there!" Pepper exploded. "I hate staying here in Boston while you guys do all the work."

             
Hope swallowed back her tears. "If we did that and Oberlin saw us, recognized us—"

             
"I know," Pepper said bitterly. "It would ruin all our plans."

             
"We'll fly down when we get ready to close the trap," Zack promised. "Not too much longer."

             
"One minute," Gabriel warned.

             
"One last question—how is Griswald holding up?" Hope asked.

             
"Freddy?" Jason shook his head dolefully. "Freddy Griswald? Poor old Freddy?"

             
"I told Zack this project was too much of a strain on him." Hope sat straight up. "The man is almost eighty years old!"

             
Zack, who obviously recognized the expression on Jason's face from their years in college, asked patiently, "What's wrong?"

             
"He told me he now realizes he wasted his life being a butler," Jason said.

             
"Really?" Zack lifted his eyebrows. "And why is that?"

             
"He says he should have been a spy." Jason grinned. "He said he would have saved England a lot of trouble in World War II."

             
Zack and Pepper burst into laughter.

             
Hope's expression went through various perambulations before it settled on disgust. "All right," she said grudgingly. "So he's having the time of his life. Can you blame me for worrying about an old man?"

             
"We expect nothing less, darling." Zack hugged her shoulders, and, after a moment of stiffness, she laid her head on his chest.

             
Before Jason could make kissy noises—juvenile, he knew, but so necessary when two men had known each other so long—the video went dead.

             
Gabriel had cut the transmission with Boston.

             
As Jason got ready for bed under the watchful eyes of Senator George Oberlin's flunkies, he managed to look worried, but when he shut off the light, nothing could stop his grin.

             
Griswald was right. This sort of vigilante justice was fun, especially if it succeeded in reuniting the Prescott family at last.

             
And Jason cherished a secret dream, because although everyone knew the truth, no one talked about it. Yet the unalterable fact was—someone had murdered Bennett and Lana Prescott, and that person needed to be brought to justice.

             
George Oberlin should be brought to justice.

TWELVE

             
That is one damned clumsy kiss.

             
It was two in the morning. Teague sat parked in front of Dean's house with the headlights fixed right on Dean and Kate while Dean tried to get more than a peck on the cheek out of his date.

             
Teague was not in the mood to see Dean Sanders put his hands on Kate and discover for himself what she hid beneath her skirt.

             
God.
Nothing. She had nothing on under there.

             
Teague put his hand on the door, ready to leap out and pull her free of Dean's embrace.

             
But Kate pushed herself away, gestured toward Teague, and shook her head.

             
"Good girl," Teague whispered. He watched as she walked carefully back to the car. He opened the door for her and watched her slip inside. "Did you make another date?" he asked roughly.

             
"Let's go home." She slid her hands down her thighs as if smoothing the wrinkles out of the fragile silk of her dress.

             
Yet Teague couldn't tear his gaze away. "You know, for such a prissy girl, you're good at torment." Jamming the gearshift into first, he roared away from the curb. The dark streets whipped past them. "
Did
you make another date?"

             
"No. Slow down. We don't want the police to stop us."

             
"I know them all." But he eased off the gas and made his way sedately to Kate's loft. Because he
didn't
want the police to stop them. He didn't want to take the time to prove he was sober. He didn't want to show his ID and explain what he was doing with Kate. He just wanted to get to Kate's home, into Kate's bed, and sate himself with her body.

             
He pulled the car into her marked parking place. He surveyed the well-lit sidewalks, the small patches of grass, the meager planter beside the door. His gaze lingered on the Dumpster, the only place where anyone could hide. But nothing moved. For the moment, they were safe.

             
Yet while Kate's safety remained of paramount importance to him, his own safety meant nothing. He didn't care about professional ethics. Beyond all sense, he had to have her.

             
The faint light painted Kate in shadow like a classic drawing created in the dusk. Her large eyes watched him, but he couldn't discern her expression. Trepidation? Excitement? Triumph? He didn't know. He couldn't guess. He only knew she'd been teasing him all night with the motion of her sleek, clean body, her knowing laughter, the rich scent of her lavender perfume. She embodied every dream he'd never allowed himself to have . . . and she had agreed to his terms. She had offered herself to him.

             
He had been holding himself in check for hours. Now, with a deep groan, he reached across from his seat to hers. He pulled her into his arms. The console with its emergency brake was between them; he didn't care. He didn't care about the discomfort of their positions. He had to touch her.