Living on the Edge (6 page)

She put down the bottle. “I took them to the hotel and
then went to the charity. It took a couple of days, but in the end, Lacey got her surgery and I found my calling.”

He could feel her enthusiasm and energy. She kept surprising him. “You like what you do,” he said.

“No. I love it. It's my reason for living. After I left Christopher, I threw myself into my work.” She glanced at him. “I've been out of touch for nearly two weeks.”

“You're not going into your office.”

“I know. I can't risk that, but I thought maybe I could use a computer and do some work on the Internet. If I could just have access to my e-mail…”

“No.”

“What would it hurt?”

“My game,” he reminded her. “My rules.”

“Well, your rules suck. I'm not asking to buy shoes at the Nordstrom's Web site. I want to be in touch with my kids.”

“No.”

She slammed both hands on the table and glared at him. “You're being stubborn and there's no reason to be. This is important. This matters. You have no idea what it's like to grow up different and ugly and deformed.”

“You don't know anything about me,” he said.

She laughed then. A bright, clear sound that hit him in the gut like a sucker punch. “Oh, please, Tanner. Look in the mirror. You're good-looking and powerful. You probably always have been.” Her humor faded. “These kids aren't. They're misfits who are laughed at on a daily basis. They need me and I'm going to be there for them. If my being out of touch means even one child doesn't get his or her surgery, then none of this is worth it.”

“A pretty speech,” he said, doing his best not to buy into her passion.

“I mean every word of it.”

“Are you willing to risk your life for it?”

“Yes,” she said without hesitation. “I'll do whatever you say. You can monitor my e-mail. You can even stand over me while I type. I don't care. But I need to have access to my mail and my files at work.”

Suddenly uncomfortable, he stood and picked up his notes. “I'll think about it,” he told her. “No promises.”

M
adison slept through the night. It was the first time in nearly two weeks, and she felt like a new person when she woke up in the morning. After another long shower, luxuriating in the unlimited hot water and her access to shampoo and privacy, she dressed and went in search of coffee.

Not surprisingly, Tanner was already up. She passed him in the control room on her way to the kitchen.

He sat in front of the computer, typing something. The long-sleeved dark shirt of the previous day had been replaced with a black T-shirt. Impressive muscles stretched out the cotton.

If he was so busy being commando-guy and saving the world, when did he find the time to work out? Because he had to—no guy was so physically perfect without a little effort.

“Morning,” he said when she paused a few feet from the doorway. “You're up early.”

She glanced at the clock on the wall. It was a little after seven. “I guess I'm anxious to start my day.” Not that she had all that much planned to occupy her time. Now if she had her computer…

But that was a conversation to have after coffee, she thought as she smiled politely and continued to the kitchen, where a pot stood at the ready.

After pouring a cup, she settled on one of the kitchen chairs and glanced through the newspaper Tanner had left. But she couldn't seem to make sense of the words—probably because she felt too unsettled.

It was the circumstances, she told herself. Stress. She'd been through a lot in the past couple of weeks and now she was living with a man she didn't know, in a place no one else knew about. While she didn't think Tanner would kill her and hide the body, she wasn't used to being so in the dark about her future.

Then there was the man himself. She could rarely figure out what he was thinking. He seemed to despise her only a little less than he had before. She wondered if she was crazy to trust him, then winced at her word choice.

No, she told herself. Not crazy. Under the circumstances, trusting Tanner only made sense.

She was still working on convincing herself when he walked into the kitchen to pour himself more coffee. She watched his easy movements, the bunch and release of muscles. In another world, at another time, she would have found him attractive and intriguing. Now he was just a mystery.

“Why are you doing this?” she asked.

He glanced from her to the pot he held. “I like coffee.”

She held in a smile. “No, why are you helping me?”

“I was hired to rescue you, not turn you over to a potential killer. Until I know it's safe to let you go, I'll keep you here.”

Pretty much what she'd figured. “A man of honor?” she asked.

“That's pushing it.”

“But you're doing the right thing.”

He raised his eyebrows. “That has yet to be determined.”

“So you think I could still be lying.”

“About some things. You were right about Hilliard not paying his bills. He has a long trail of angry creditors. A few of them have pursued legal action.”

“I told you that,” she reminded him. “The lawsuits were dismissed.”

“Not all of them, and not necessarily for legal reasons.”

She didn't like the sound of that. “Meaning?”

“Sometimes the person pursuing the suit disappeared.”

Her chest tightened and she tasted fear. “He doesn't like people who get in his way,” she said, hating to have that confirmed.

“Apparently not.”

“I know he's a threat to me. What about my father?” she asked.

“Hilliard needs him.”

“For now.”

Tanner shrugged.

“Can you protect him?” she asked. “Would you let
me hire you to do that? If you could get a couple of guys into the company, just to hang around him…”

“I'll check into it.”

“I can pay you.”

He sipped his coffee. “I'm not questioning that.”

Some of her tension eased. If Tanner would look after her father, she wouldn't have to worry about him. Sure, Christopher needed Blaine in the short term, but for how long? And then what?

“I hate this,” she said. “I hate that he's in my life. Just thinking about him makes my skin crawl.”

“For what it's worth, he didn't go to the police about me keeping you here,” Tanner said. “He also hasn't tried to get in touch with me.”

She let the news sink in. “If my ex-husband didn't go to the authorities about you holding on to me, that has to mean something.”

“It's helping your case,” he admitted.

“You're a very stubborn man.”

“I'm careful.”

If he kept her alive, she wasn't going to complain about his need to be cautious.

“I'm going to go crazy here with nothing to do,” she said. “I think we should argue about my computer again.”

He surprised her by smiling. “You willing to take me on?”

She swallowed more coffee before offering a brazen, “Absolutely.”

“What if you piss me off so much that I won't help you?”

She dismissed the suggestion with a shrug. “You
kept me here and safe, even though you don't like me. I doubt annoying you about my computer is going to make a difference. You don't operate that way.”

“How do I operate?”

“I'm not completely sure, but I know you're not slimy.”

He studied her for several minutes before speaking. “I reserve the right to review your e-mail. I'll also download your hard disk and look it over.”

Relief swept through her. “Read it all twice, I don't care. I just want to get back to work. I have a laptop at home.”

“I figured. I'll have one of my men stop by and pick it up. If you want anything else from the condo, write it down.”

Madison held in a whoop of delight. When Tanner walked out of the kitchen, she found a pen and paper, then wrote out a quick list. She headed for the control room and hovered outside.

“Here it is,” she said, holding it out for him.

Tanner put his computer to sleep, grabbed the keys and stepped into the hallway. He took the paper and read it over, then nodded.

“I'll be back in a couple of hours.”

He was leaving? She didn't know if that was good or bad. “Okay.”

“Don't try to run away. Don't try to go outside or into the control room. If you do, the alarm will be set off and I'll be paged. You're not going to get out of here without me, and if you try, all bets are off. Do I make myself clear?”

As she had no intention of leaving, it was easy to agree. Five minutes later, he was gone and she was alone.

When she heard the garage door automatically close, she walked directly to the phone and picked it up. Instead of a dial tone, she heard a computerized voice asking for her access code.

“Why am I not surprised,” Madison murmured as she made her way into the family room and picked up the remote for the television. She was well and truly Tanner's prisoner. It seemed like a good time to check out daytime TV.

 

Tanner typed computer keys while Madison hovered impatiently in the hallway. He couldn't see her directly, but he caught most of her movements out of the corner of his eye.

“You're bugging me,” he told her, not looking up from his work.

“Could you be slower?” she asked with obvious impatience. “How long does it take to copy a stupid disk drive?”

“It takes longer when you're distracting me.”

She pressed her lips together but continued her fidgety, shuffling almost dance.

“I'll have Internet access, right?” she asked. “You said I would.”

“Yes. High-speed and everything. Your e-mail will be monitored.”

“Whatever,” she told him. “It's just work stuff. You're not going to find me having cybersex with anyone.”

“Good to know. I was more concerned about you telling a friend you're in hiding. You'll have to tell them
you're recovering from the flu at a friend's house. Or staying out of town.”

“Oh. Right.” She actually stood still for a full five seconds. “You don't want our position compromised.”

He looked up and glared at her. “This isn't a war movie.”

She gave him a cheeky grin. “Maybe not, but we do have a position to compromise. Don't worry, Captain. I'll take the secret information to my death.”

“How much coffee have you had?”

“Way too much. I was bored. I did lousy on all the game shows I watched while you were gone, but I got some great ideas for a faux finish for the kitchen walls on a decorating show. Want to hear?”

“No.”

He stood and carried her laptop to her. She grabbed it and clutched it to her chest.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you,” she said happily. “I promise to be a good little computer user.” Her humor faded a little. “Christopher won't be able to trace me back here, will he? He's kind of a computer geek. It's a hobby with him.”

“You're untraceable. Even if he figures out a way to know when you're online, any trace will turn up false addresses. As far as he and the rest of the world are concerned, this place doesn't exist.”

“Good to know. Seriously, thanks for this. I'm back in business.”

She twirled in the hallway, then hurried to her room. Tanner watched her go. Her long hair fluttered out behind her and her snug jeans outlined the faint curve of her hips.

She needed a good twenty pounds packed on her before she could escape being called bony, but she had some potential. Not that he would do anything about it. Number one, she wasn't his type. Number two, while she was his responsibility, he wouldn't try anything. Number three, he doubted she was interested in what he had in mind.

Just as well, he told himself. Women like her made things complicated. He would bet a lot of money that Madison had never had sex just for the sake of it. That to her the act was as emotional and spiritual as physical. The thought of which made him tired.

He returned to the control room and sat in front of his computer. While he would rather be beaten than admit it, he was starting to like her. She was nothing he'd imagined and nothing like other rich women he'd met. She seemed to have values and a sense of someone other than herself.

Which could all be an act, he reminded himself as he began to type. Although he would know soon enough. A quick trip through her computer would tell him if her work was as important to her as she claimed.

 

Stanislav was not a big man. Barely five foot eight with a thin build, he looked like the guy you pushed around on the beach. Christopher knew better. He'd seen the Russian cut off a man's hand, fingers first, then the thumb, then finally slicing the rest off at the wrist. That man had stolen less than a hundred dollars from one of Stanislav's gambling clubs.

Now, as Stanislav walked around his office, picking
up pieces of art, admiring pictures, Christopher felt sweat trickle down his back. He kept his attention on the smaller Russian man when he really wanted to stare at Stanislav's very large, very stoic associates.

“Very nice,” Stanislav said with only the slightest of accents. “I like your office. You find it very creative, yes?”

“Uh, yeah. Sure. It's great. But this is mostly for guests. I do the real work down in the lab.”

Stanislav turned to look at him. The Russian's pale blue eyes seemed to be made of ice. “By ‘real work' you mean taking what I give you, taking our technology and pretending to make it your own.”

Christopher swallowed, not sure what to say. “I, uh…”

Stanislav waved him to silence.

“You Americans,” he began as he walked to the floor-to-ceiling window and stared out at the view of Brentwood. “You think you are so superior. That we are a backward country with no creativity. No spark. Yet who do you come to for your technology? Where do you try to buy the next big thing?” He turned and glared at Christopher. “Russia.
Our
scientists created the jamming device you want so badly. In their small back rooms and underground laboratories. We designed it, tested it and would have brought it to market.” He drew his eyebrows together. “Or maybe we would have used it on you. We could have flown here on radar-invisible planes and crushed you while you slept.”

“You sure could have,” Christopher said, doing his best to keep his voice from shaking.

Stanislav moved close. “But we did not,” he said from only a foot away. His pale gaze locked on Christopher's
face. “We became what we are today—a broken country going nowhere. For some, this is better. Better for me. In the new order I am a rich, powerful man. But not better for Russia. Still, what is done is done.”