Living on the Edge (2 page)

The only door in the room was locked from the outside. She'd already tried it several times. There was no way she could break through the metal door and she doubted she could claw through the walls. So she was trapped until her rescuer returned to reunite her with her family. And then?

How long would Christopher keep her alive? A few weeks? Months? She didn't know his plan, so she wasn't sure if he needed her. That need was her only hope.

A faint sound came from the hallway. Madison turned and braced herself for the inevitable. For the sight of the man who wanted her dead. Instead the door opened and her rescuer stood in front of her.

He was tall, muscular and dark in a way that went deeper than his black hair and brown eyes. He was the kind of man people walked around rather than confronted. Power and confidence surrounded him like a
visible aura. He wore black and there was a gun at his belt. How much did he know? Would he be using the gun on her?

“Sorry to have kept you waiting,” the man said, sounding more angry than actually sorry.

“It's all right. How is your friend?”

“Still in surgery.”

“I hope he's going to be all right.” She didn't need the weight of a stranger's injuries on her already burdened conscience.

A case could be made that the shooting wasn't her fault—she hadn't asked to be rescued or even kidnapped in the first place. But the injured man had been there because of her, and she couldn't make herself believe she wasn't somehow responsible.

The man in front of her looked her over. “Are you hungry? Did they feed you?”

“I'm fine.” She couldn't imagine ever eating again. She couldn't imagine life ever being normal. “I'm sorry, I didn't get your name.”

“Keane. Tanner Keane.”

“Mr. Keane, I'm assuming my family hired you to find me?”

He nodded and crossed his arms over his chest. “Call me Tanner. And yes, your husband and your father came to me a few days ago. They'd hired another company to locate you after the kidnapping, but they didn't have much luck.” He raised one shoulder, then let it fall. “I'm better.”

Interesting. Why would Christopher have gone to someone who wasn't the best? He hated dealing with anyone who wasn't completely qualified. She tried to
focus on the question, on the point of it all, but lack of sleep made her fuzzy.

It had to be about money, she told herself. But how?

“Was there a ransom?” she asked.

“Twenty million.”

Madison felt her head start to swim. “That much.” She crossed to the bed and sank down onto the mattress. “Was it paid?”

“It would have been.” Tanner glanced at his watch. “In about two hours. I put in a call to have it intercepted. I'll be returning the money to your family when I take you to them.”

Which was the problem, she thought. “My father hired you?”

“And your husband. They're both very anxious to get you back. It's understandable. This has been difficult for them, as well.”

Madison fought the urge to laugh. She had a feeling any humor would quickly explode into hysterics. Once she lost control, she might never get it back.

“Mr. Keane—Tanner—I don't want to be returned to my family.”

One dark eyebrow rose slowly. “Why is that?”

“Do you need a reason? Can't you simply let me go?”

“My contract with your family states that I return you to them. I would have done it right away, but Kelly's medical treatment took priority.”

“I know and it's fine. I just…” She stared at him, wondering how to make this man understand. “Unless you're planning to hold me captive, as well, I should be free to go.”

If only he would agree. She could easily disappear—Los Angeles was a huge place and she had friends no one knew about.

“I can't have you wandering the streets with no money or identification.”

Oh, right. No credit cards, either, although she didn't think she could use them. Christopher would be able to track her.

Tanner gave her a smile that didn't come close to reaching his eyes. “Mrs. Hilliard, you've been through a very traumatic experience. You're confused, and that's understandable. I'm sure when you're back home with your husband and your father, you'll feel much better. In a few weeks, you'll be able to put this whole experience behind you.”

“I hope you're right. Unfortunately I think there's also a very good chance I'll be dead.”

T
anner held in a groan. He had neither the time nor the patience to deal with a drama queen right now. He wanted Madison Hilliard out of his life so he could focus on what was important. Dammit all to hell, what was it about rich women and their need to be the center of the universe?

“Wasn't the kidnapping enough for one week?” he asked, barely able to restrain his temper.

“I'm not playing a game,” she said, her eyes wide with a lot of emotion he wasn't interested in reading. “You can't return me to my family. Take me anywhere else. Please.”

“How about a police station?”

She considered that option. Funny how he wasn't surprised when she slowly shook her head. The cops
wouldn't be the kind of audience that interested her. They wouldn't be willing to play her little game, either.

He narrowed his gaze as he wondered if mental problems ran in her family.

She took a step toward him. “Christopher is the one who kidnapped me. I was attacked and drugged as I walked into my condo. I couldn't see anyone, but I recognized his watch right before I passed out. It's very distinctive—he had it custom-made.”

“Uh-huh.” He would have to give her points for originality, if nothing else. “Can you prove it?”

“What? Of course not. It was a kidnapping. It's not as if they sent me an itinerary ahead of time and used Christopher's letterhead. But I know what I saw.”

Sure. “So tell me, Madison, why would your husband want to kidnap you?”

“I don't know. I guess he needed the money.”

“You both already have plenty of that.”

“Christopher doesn't have as much as you'd think. He's always running short of cash. That's the only thing that explains the excessive ransom.”

“Twenty million is a hell of a lot for him to need.”

She nodded. “Please. I know how this sounds. I know you have no reason to trust me, but things are not as they seem. Christopher lives on the edge. He gambles and usually loses a lot. He buys expensive pieces of art and furniture. Trust me, he always needs more money.”

“Nothing personal, Mrs. Hilliard, but I
don't
trust you.”

“You don't like me, either,” Madison said. “That's okay. But it doesn't give you the right to put me at risk.”

“I don't believe you are. Why would your husband
have hired two different companies to find you if he wanted you dead?”

“Because I'm worth more to him alive. You don't actually know he hired another company. He could be lying.”

“Sure, and so could you.” Tanner reached the end of his attention span for this conversation. “I was hired by your husband and your father to find you, and I did. Because of that, one of my best men is close to death. All I want is my fee and you out of my life. I'm not interested in getting involved in whatever sick game you and your husband are playing.”

With that, he turned and headed for the door.

Madison rushed toward him. “We're not married. Did he tell you that? We've been divorced for over six months. I'm sure there's a way you could check the court records to verify it.”

Tanner stared at her. Divorced? He glanced at her left hand. No ring and no marks to show one had been removed recently. Neither Hilliard nor her father had said anything about a divorce. In fact, Hilliard had made it very clear he wanted his wife home with him, where she belonged. Tanner remembered wondering about Mrs. Hilliard's feelings on being such an important possession.

Not that it changed anything, he told himself. Divorced or not, he'd been paid to complete a job and he had. Except…

He swore under his breath. There was something about her desperation, something about her words and, most important, something about the tension in his gut. He'd learned from hard experience to never ignore that feeling.

Madison must have sensed she had his attention, because she started talking very quickly.

“I left him nearly two years ago. He spent the first six months trying to convince me to come back and the next year fighting the divorce. Fortunately California is a no-fault state, and in the end, he couldn't stop it.”

“Why was he so interested in keeping a woman who wanted to get away?”

“Money.”

“You've brought that up before. Your ex is loaded.”

She shook her head. “No. He's not. His lifestyle sucks up a lot of his company profits. Plus he's into something big. I don't know what it is—I've only heard my father talking about it from time to time.”

“Didn't he get a big chunk of your net worth after the divorce?”

“No. There was a pretty tight prenuptial agreement.” For the first time since he'd met her, she smiled. “Besides, I'm not worth all that much on my own. The bulk of the family fortune is tied up in Adams Electronics. My father is the principal stockholder, not me. I only own a few thousand shares. Christopher did get the house, which was fine with me.”

So Hilliard had lost the eye-candy wife
and
access to the big bucks. That couldn't have made him happy.

“He and your father are working on something together. It came up in my research,” Tanner told her.

“I know. I've read the same thing. I don't talk to my father about it. I've tried to convince him to stop doing business with Christopher, but he won't listen. He
doesn't understand how I could have let such a good man get away.”

She tilted her head, which caused her long blond hair to fall away from her face, exposing the side with the still-red scar. He narrowed his gaze. Why would such a beautiful woman keep such an ugly mark on her face? She would have had access to the best plastic surgeons in the world, along with the money to pay them. As much as he hated to admit it, a lot of things didn't make sense.

“He set up the kidnapping to get the ransom money,” she said earnestly. “I doubt there was any other company looking for me. I'm sure he told my father there was to keep him from worrying.”

“Why wouldn't your father have insisted on going to the police?”

Her mouth twisted. “He trusts Christopher implicitly. As far as he was concerned, his son-in-law would handle everything perfectly.” She glanced down at the floor, then back at him. “My father is something of an absentminded professor. He likes it best when the real world doesn't interfere with his time in the lab.”

Which meant what? That her father hadn't been all that worried about the kidnapping because good old Hilliard was taking care of it?

Tanner recalled his meeting with the two men. Hilliard had done all the talking. Blaine Adams had seemed concerned, but not overly so.

“If nothing else, you should make sure you get paid,” Madison told him. “My ex has a bad habit of offering fees in halves. Half up front, half at the end of the deal. Only that second half doesn't ever seem to get paid.”

“Hilliard wouldn't try that with me.”

“How do you know?”

“Because I'd hunt him down and make him beg to give me the rest of my money.”

“Good luck with that.”

She spoke with the confidence of someone who had lived the truth. Tanner grimaced as he realized he'd carefully checked out Blaine Adams when he'd taken the job, but he'd only done a cursory check on Hilliard. After all, Daddy had been the one paying the ransom. But Hilliard had offered to take care of the bill.

Sloppy work, he told himself. Sloppy gets you dead.

He glared at Madison. He didn't have time for this or her or her sob story. He wanted her gone. But he couldn't—not with his gut whispering that she just might be telling the truth. Hilliard kidnapping his ex-wife to get his hands on the family money wasn't his business, but he wouldn't send her back if she was at risk. No matter how much he wanted to.

He was going to have to check out her story.

“I don't believe you for a second,” he said flatly. “But I'll look into what you've told me.”

Her relief was a tangible creature in the room. Before she could get too relaxed, Tanner moved close and cupped her neck. He applied just enough pressure to make it difficult for her to breathe.

“If you're playing me for a fool, I'll make you sorry. Is that clear?”

Her eyes widened. Color fled her face, but her gaze never wavered. She stared right back at him and slowly nodded.

He acknowledged that she hadn't flinched. At least she had some backbone. And she wasn't a screamer. Two small points in her favor.

When he released her, she stood her ground. She didn't whimper or complain or even rub her neck.

“You don't understand,” she told him quietly. “There's nothing you can do that's worse than what Christopher has already done to me. I'm not trying to trick you, I just want to stay alive.”

Funny how at that moment, he almost wanted it to be true. That she was just what she said.

Not a snowball's chance, he thought. He studied her face, her long blond hair, her slender body. Except for the scar, she was perfect. Tall, leggy, beautiful. And completely useless.

He had no time for women like her in his life, but he wouldn't mind finding her in his bed—just for the night. She would be a hell of a ride.

 

Tanner left Madison in the holding cell and returned to the front office of the small warehouse building he rented down by the airport. His laptop sprang to life when he hit the keys. Seconds later, he was on the Internet and tapping into sources to check out what Madison had said about her ex.

Two hours later, he had a detailed financial profile of Christopher Hilliard, along with e-mails from two informants. Word on the street
was
that Hilliard had a habit of skipping out on bills. An interesting practice for someone born to money. There were also some hints about shady dealings, but nothing specific. The most in
teresting point came from a casino employee Tanner had on retainer. Hilliard liked the high-stakes games, but they didn't like him. He was up to his eyeballs in serious debt to some not-friendly people. Could that be why he needed the ransom money?

Speaking of which…He made a quick call, then leaned back in his chair. Now what? While he didn't want to believe Madison, so far he hadn't caught her in a lie. Sure, she wasn't anyone he could respect, but that didn't mean he wanted her dead. And until he was sure, she remained his responsibility.

Might as well get it over with, he told himself as he reached for the phone again. This time he called Blaine Adams's house. The older man picked up on the first ring.

“Adams here.”

“Tanner Keane.”

“At last. Hold on, Mr. Keane.” There was a second of silence followed by Adams saying, “Christopher, it's Mr. Keane. Pick up in the library.”

Tanner waited through the quiet. Then he heard a click and Hilliard was on the line.

“Keane? What the hell is going on? Where's my wife?”

Ex-wife, Tanner thought, wondering who was playing what game with him.

“I have her with me. She's safe.”

Blaine breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank God. I should have listened to you before, Christopher. You said Mr. Keane was the best. Is Madison all right?”

“She's perfectly fine. Anxious to see you both.”

“Good, good. Well done.” Blaine cleared his throat.
“All right, then. Christopher, I'll leave this to you. I need to get back to the lab. I have a meeting, some work…”

His voice trailed off as if he'd already left but had forgotten to hang up the phone. Seconds later, the receiver had been replaced.

Tanner had tried to think of ways to get Blaine off the phone, but it turned out fate had been kind. Now it was just him and Hilliard.

“You must have been worried,” Tanner said.

“Of course. We've all been sick. That other company I hired—what a bunch of incompetent asses.”

“I'm sorry you had to go through that.” Tanner leaned back in his chair and prepared to begin the game. “What was the name of the company? The first one you hired.”

“Why do you want to know?”

“People ask me about the competition. I don't want to recommend someone who can't do the job.”

Hilliard chuckled. “I doubt you recommend anyone, Keane.”

Interesting. So Hilliard wasn't going to tell him. Which made Tanner wonder if Madison had been right—maybe there
hadn't
been a first company. Maybe Hilliard had simply waited to hire Tanner to make things look more desperate. That would help Blaine come to terms with such a steep ransom.

“How is she? Really, I mean,” Hilliard said. “Madison was never very strong emotionally.”

“Relieved. They beat her up pretty badly.”

“What? No. They wouldn't have.”