Living on the Edge (5 page)

He studied her as she spoke. She would love to know what he was thinking, but then again, maybe not. Tanner had made it clear she wasn't his favorite person on the planet. Why hear more of the same?

They ate in silence. She had two servings of salad and three of pasta. When she'd finished, she leaned back in her chair and sighed.

“Better?” he asked.

She nodded. “Much. Thanks for cooking. You did a great job.”

He smiled again. “Yeah, I can boil up pasta better than almost anyone.”

The humor intrigued her. So far, her host had been all business. The smile softened his expression and added light to his eyes. It almost made him approachable. He was still dangerous, but it was nice to know there was a regular person under all that killer edge.

“I have some questions,” he said. “I want to get as much information on your ex-husband as possible. The more you tell me, the more it will help with the investigation.”

“Absolutely. I'll tell you everything.”

The smile faded as if it had never existed and the warrior returned. He grabbed a notepad from the counter.

“Start at the beginning,” he said. “Where did you and Hilliard meet?”

“M
y father brought Christopher home for dinner one evening,” Madison said. “They'd met at a conference. Christopher was very impressive. His parents had been killed while he was still in graduate school, but he'd managed to get his Ph.D. and run the family firm at the same time. My father admired his talent, his work ethic.”

Tanner scribbled some notes. “What did you admire?”

“Excuse me?”

“You married the guy. You must have liked something you saw.”

Right. Of course. Madison considered the question and wondered how to answer it. For her, those days were a lifetime ago. Maybe someone else's lifetime.

“I was a different person back then,” she said slowly. Tension filled her body. Rather than sit and feel awk
ward, she stood and began to clear the table. “Different things impressed me. Christopher was smart and charming and sophisticated. He swept me off my feet. We were engaged two months after we met, and married three months after that. I didn't get to know the real man until sometime later.”

“Who is the real man?”

Nothing in Tanner's voice gave away what he was thinking. Madison rinsed the dishes and loaded the dishwasher as she tried to form an answer.

How could she explain what was only a feeling?

“He has a dark side. He likes to gamble. He could drop a million dollars at a table and not even blink. He also has a temper. He can fly into a rage without warning.” She was careful to speak without actually dwelling on the past. She didn't want to disappear into those memories.

“People tended to cross him only one time. He made sure they didn't do it twice,” she said.

“Interesting, but not exactly the characteristics of someone willing to kidnap or kill.”

She dried her hands on a towel and faced him. “You don't believe me?”

“I need more than this. Tell me about his company. You said he took it over when his parents died. How did they die?”

She rinsed the pasta pot, then put it on the top shelf of the dishwasher. “A car accident. They'd gone away skiing and they lost control of their car on an icy road.”

“Was there any investigation into their deaths?”

“What? No. Why would there be?”

“If you think Hilliard is capable of having you kidnapped and killed, why not do away with his parents, too?”

“But he…” The thought stunned her. Was it possible? Could he have done that? “I don't know,” she said honestly. “Maybe he could have.”

“Tell me about your father's company.”

She wiped off the counters, then returned to the table. “Adams Electronics makes tracking equipment for the military. As soon as someone creates a stealth technology, someone else tries to figure out a way to make it obsolete. My father's company has several contracts with the military. They bring him different foreign technologies and he finds a way around them.”

“But the family fortune can't all come from military contracts.”

“It doesn't. There are usually by-product discoveries, and that's where the real money comes from.”

Tanner continued to write. His impersonal, professional manner made it easier for her to think about the past. It was more distant with him around, plus there was no way Christopher could find her here.

“You're the only child,” he said, more a statement than a question.

“Yes. I'm sure my father wanted more children. Certainly a son to carry on in his footsteps. I was never very interested in the family business. I don't have the math gene.”

“Not everyone does. Your mother?”

Madison leaned back in her chair and folded her arms over her chest. “She's, um, dead. It's been about
ten years. She didn't have the math gene, either, although she could trace her lineage back to the Mayflower. Very east-coast old money, old family. My father was an upstart scientist who stole her away from her Ivy League fiancé.”

“What does his family do?”

Madison frowned. “The old boyfriend?”

“Yeah.”

“He's in construction. Skyscrapers and hotels.”

“So there's nothing to connect him to this situation?”

“No.”

“So what's Hilliard into that's so hot?” he asked.

“Some kind of innovative jamming technology. What I'm hearing is that it's the first jamming device that can't be defeated. So if someone were trying to track, say, your plane, and you were able to jam their radar signals, you could fly virtually invisible.”

“Get a fighter jet right over D.C. and no one would know?”

“Exactly.”

“Powerful.”

“If it happens, it's going to be worth millions.”

Tanner tapped the pen. “Maybe worth enough to kill for.”

She didn't want to think about that.

“Is he smart enough to do it?” Tanner asked.

“I don't know. My father thinks so. He's been very excited about the project for over a year now.” Blaine had always mentioned it when she'd first tried to talk about why she was leaving Christopher. As if her husband's brilliance was reason enough to stay.

“If Hilliard builds it, can your father figure out how to work around it?”

“He didn't seem very confident about the possibilities.”

“Is he in on the deal with Hilliard?”

She knew what he meant. Were the two men working together to create more interest? Blaine Adams saying there was a technology he couldn't defeat was like Santa Claus announcing that he'd given up the toy business.

“I don't want to believe that about my father,” she said quietly. “He's a good man. A little forgetful when it comes to interpersonal relationships, but not about his business. He has integrity.”

“Which doesn't mean he can't be bought.”

“Money isn't important to him.”

Tanner wanted to believe her. She looked so damned earnest, sitting there all stiff and defiant. But he couldn't ignore a possibility just because it got her panties in a twist.

“If Hilliard has so much money, why doesn't he pay his bills?” he asked.

“I don't know. It's almost a point of honor with him. Like he's getting away with something. Most people aren't willing to take him on. They just grumble. There have been a couple of lawsuits, but they always get dropped.”

She wasn't painting a picture of a very nice guy, Tanner thought. How had Hilliard swept her off her feet?

She leaned forward and rested her forearms on the table. “How is that man? The one who works for you and was injured.”

Concern darkened her eyes and pulled at her mouth. Tanner didn't want to think about Kelly or the fact that
the kid might not recover. He didn't want to have to make that phone call to his family or miss the kid himself.

“Holding his own. He survived the surgery.”

“I'm sorry he was injured.”

“You didn't shoot him.”

“But it's still—”

He didn't want to talk about it so he said, “If your theory of Hilliard kidnapping you for the ransom money is right, then he's got to be pissed he missed out on his twenty million.”

She perked up. “He didn't get the money?”

“I had it intercepted and returned directly to your father. Last I heard, it was already back in his account.”

“I'm glad,” she said fiercely.

“What would he need the money for?”

“Gambling debts.”

“He's not in that deep.”

“How do you know?” she asked.

“I checked.”

“Then I don't know. Is he buying someone off for something? Maybe he stole the technology he's claiming as his own.”

“Or buying it,” Tanner said, focused more on the way Madison fingered the scar on her face. “How did that happen?”

She dropped her hand to her lap and stared at the table. “I don't remember. I know that sounds strange, but it's true. I can't figure out if I hit my head or if I've just blocked out the memory. I was fighting with Christopher. This was before I left him. He'd been badgering me about my work and wanting me to quit.”

Tanner stared at her. “You have a job?”

“Yes. I don't get paid—I'm a volunteer—but I'm expected to show up every day to get things done.” She raised her gaze to his. “I'm not completely useless.”

The jury was still out on that one, he thought. “Let me guess. No wife of his should hold a job.”

“Exactly. He and my father ganged up on me. They said I should stay home and focus on being a good wife. That I wasn't…strong enough to do both.”

Strong enough? He might not be a Madison Hilliard fan, but he was more than convinced of her determination and will.

“My father left,” she continued. “Christopher kept yelling at me. I know he slapped me, but then it all gets blurry.”

“Is that the first time he hit you?” Tanner asked, knowing the information was significant. When men beat their wives, the situation often escalated into murder.

“Yes.”

He waited, staring her down.

“It was the first time,” she told him. “And one of the reasons I left.”

“Fair enough. So did you fall when he hit you?”

“No. I just stood there and stared at him. He was yelling. I'm not sure he knew what he'd done.”

“He knew.” Men always knew when they hit a woman.

“Okay. The next thing I remember is kneeling on the ground. I'd somehow gone through the glass door. I was bleeding.” She touched her cheek again. “I honestly can't tell you if he pushed me or if I tripped or what.”

Tanner would put money on the bastard pushing her
or throwing her. He wasn't surprised Madison had blocked the memory. No one would want to find out that her husband was a monster.

“He stood over me, still yelling, but he seemed happy, too. He said I would be as ugly as the children I tried to help. That I'd earned that. Then he was gone. I drove myself to the emergency room. The doctor there stitched me up and sent me home. When I got back, Christopher was gone. I remember feeling grateful. I spoke to an attorney the next day to find out what divorcing him would involve. It took me a couple of months to get the courage to leave, but I did it.”

Tanner looked at his notes because staring at Madison had become too much of an invasion of her privacy.

“What kind of children do you work with?” he asked.

“Poor children with facial deformities. The charity I'm involved with arranges for them and their parents to be flown here for reconstructive surgeries. We pay for everything, even the follow-up care they need back home.” She smiled. “The kids are so amazing. I guess they're all tough because they've had to endure so much growing up. It's great when we can help a baby or a toddler, but the older kids will break your heart.”

Her face changed as she spoke. Her expression softened and her eyes filled with wonder.

“My job is to coordinate the travel plans to and from their homes and to make sure all the medical services are lined up. While the family is here, I'm their point of contact.”

Is that why she kept the scar? So the kids could see she was one of them?

As soon as the thought registered, he pushed it away. No one was that altruistic—certainly not as beautiful a woman as Madison.

“We try to make their trip as much of an adventure as possible,” Madison continued. “If we can fit it in, we like to take them to Disneyland and on a studio tour. I make sure the moms get a spa day.” She smiled. “You can't know what a difference it makes to be normal. To not be laughed or pointed at or run from.”

She was a believer. He heard it in her voice. She actually gave a damn about those kids.

“How did you get involved?” he asked.

“It was just a quirk of fate,” she told him. “I was at a low point in my life. Oh, yeah, the rich girl was depressed because she wasn't happy. How sad.” She shook her head. “I was an idiot. I was also walking to try to clear my head. I came upon a woman and her daughter on a bus bench. They were both crying. Normally I would never have gotten involved, but there was something about them. Something I couldn't ignore. So I went over and asked if I could help.”

She sipped from her bottle of water. “It turns out the woman and her daughter were from Oregon. Lacey—that was the little girl—had a cleft palate. They'd come down for the surgery, taking the bus, but when they got here, no one knew anything about an operation. I don't know if their application got lost or what. They didn't have any money or anywhere to stay. They were given a voucher for a night at a hotel and a return ticket, but that wasn't what they'd come for.”