Living on the Edge (7 page)

Christopher nodded as fear swelled inside of him.

“I came to you because of your reputation,” Stanislav said, his voice low. “Because of who you were and the business I thought we could do together. I trusted you.”

“I appreciate that,” Christopher said quickly. “I want to do what I can to keep that trust.”

“Then where is the goddamn money?” Stanislav asked in a roar.

Christopher flinched and stepped back. Instantly two of the three associates were at his side, holding him in place. He felt their strong fingers digging into his arms and knew he was well and truly trapped.

“You think I don't know what this technology is worth?” Stanislav asked, his temper back under control. “When your company finishes producing the first prototype, you will be able to jam any radar system in the world. This is power. This is the future. Your company will make billions the first year.”

The Russian's pale eyes narrowed. “And yet, on the verge of that, you try to trick me.”

Oh, God. No! Fear turned to panic. “Not that,” Christopher said, picturing that other man and his hand. The blood and the screams as each finger was slowly cut off.

“I'm not trying to trick you,” he said earnestly. “I would never do that. Never. I swear. I'll get the money. I had a plan. A good plan. But somebody got in my way.”

Stanislav stared at him. “What was your plan?”

Christopher hesitated, not sure how the other man would react to the truth. The hands holding him tightened.

“I kidnapped my ex-wife and convinced her father to cough up fifteen million in ransom.” There was no point in mentioning the five million he owed in gambling money.

The Russian's expression didn't change. Christopher braced himself for the worst when the other man began to laugh. The associates let him go. The relief was so strong, it made his legs tremble. He forced himself to stay upright.

Stanislav slapped Christopher on the back. “Your own wife? Good for you. You could almost be Russian. So what went wrong?”

“The guy I hired turned out to be too good. His men intercepted the ransom money before I could collect it.”

The humor faded as if it had never been. “For so intelligent a man, you make many mistakes,” Stanislav said. “I don't like that.”

“I know. I'm sorry.” If he got his hands on Tanner, he would kill him, Christopher vowed.

Stanislav glanced at his men, then back at Christopher. “One week, my friend. Only because we have come so far and it would take time to find another buyer. But be warned. No more excuses. If you do not have the money in a week, I will kill you. But first I will make you wish you were dead.”

Christopher believed him.

“I'll have it,” he said.

Stanislav shrugged, as if to say it hardly mattered, then he walked out and his associates followed.

Christopher sank down into the chair in front of his desk and tried to catch his breath. One week. What could he do in a week?

Robbing a bank came to mind, and if he thought he could pull it off and get enough money, he would have started planning. But the outcome was too questionable. Better to go for the sure thing. Which meant Blaine Adams.

They'd been talking about merging the companies. Obviously it was time to resurrect those discussions and then leak word to the press. That would be enough to push up stock prices. With the shares Christopher already owned of both companies and the options he had on his own, he might come close to his fifteen million.

If he'd gotten his hands on the ransom, none of this would be a problem. Somehow, some way he would make Tanner Keane pay for that. And for keeping Madison. If the bitch was here, he could force her to sign over her shares to him. That had to be at least ten million.

But she wasn't here. She'd managed to convince Keane that she was the innocent in all this. That he, Christopher, couldn't be trusted. He needed her.

But how to convince her it was safe to come home? And if he couldn't do that, how could he lure her out of hiding? There had to be a way.

T
anner scanned the files in Madison's computer. The work was fairly easy. She didn't keep any financial records on the machine or use it for more than correspondence, setting up schedules, her appointment calendar and e-mail.

He found that she'd told the truth about her work. She really did help kids with facial deformities. In her document files there were folders for each child she'd dealt with. The older files contained everything from copies of applications to travel arrangements and letters, including e-mails sent back and forth. There were also medical notes, follow-up reports and her own personal log of the child's time in Los Angeles.

He clicked on a file at random and scrolled through various documents. He stopped on an e-mail titled Big Fat Kissy Thank You.

 

Dear Madison—You have been more wonderful than I can ever say. I mean, the dress was so huge of you, but then to have Miss Cissy come and do my hair and everything. Wow! Mom says she's getting the pictures developed this weekend and we'll send you some.

I can't believe I finally got to go to my first ever dance. Brice was really cool and he brought me a corsage and it was so romantic. He even kissed me good-night.

Before, when I met you, I never thought a boy could ever like me. I was too ugly. But you said my life would change. You said I would be beautiful and you were right.

I love you so much and I don't know how to say thank you for what you've done. You're the best. I hope you have lots of kids of your own so you can love them just as much as you love me.

Your friend, Kristen.

 

Tanner stared at the screen for several seconds before closing the file. There was a response from Madison, but he didn't read it—he didn't need to. From what he'd seen so far, she was the genuine article. Someone who cared.

How was that possible? How could someone like her—rich, privileged, spoiled—ever look past her own small life into someone else's? She'd told him the story
of seeing the woman and her child crying on a bus bench, but so what? How many other people had simply hurried by?

He turned in his chair to stare at the security screen. The dot that represented Madison sat motionless in the center of her room. No doubt she'd already logged on to the Internet to collect her e-mail.

In the past thirty-six hours, he'd pushed her, bullied her and threatened her. She'd taken it all and had come back for more. He'd yet to catch her in a lie. Maybe, just maybe, she was exactly who and what she said.

He wouldn't have thought it was possible. Beauty, brains and integrity?

His computer beeped. He glanced at the screen and saw a flag for outgoing mail. He'd already warned Madison that he would be monitoring her e-mail and he'd meant it. Now he clicked on the icon, then opened the file and scanned the letter she'd sent to her boss at the charity.

The text was innocuous. Madison claimed an ongoing family emergency kept her from her work, although she would be in touch via e-mail. She attached several open case files, asking for updates and offering to help in any way she could from home.

He read the e-mail twice before sending it on. There was a second letter to her assistant, asking for information on a burned toddler who had been brought out here for surgery.

Tanner sent that one on, as well, then continued his check of Madison's hard drive. At this point, he didn't expect to find anything, but he believed in being thorough.

 

Madison felt her spirits rise with each keystroke. After nearly two weeks of being out of touch, she felt great to finally connect with her kids and her staff.

She sat propped up on the bed as she dashed off a couple of e-mails explaining that she would continue to be away from the office for a while. One of the pluses of not being a paid employee was that her boss couldn't actually complain if she, Madison, had to be gone. Madison figured it was better to keep the story vague than to explain she'd been kidnapped.

Next she went through her in-box and sorted through the letters from children. She liked to stay in touch with her clients, hear about their lives and the positive changes brought on by reconstructive surgery.

There was an e-mail from Thomas, a little boy scarred by a gunshot. He told her all about his visit to his grandmother's house and how he played with the other kids in the neighborhood and that none of them made fun of him.

Madison touched the screen of her laptop and wished she could hold the precious child in her arms. If she ever got tired or frustrated or unhappy with her life, she only had to read these letters to have her world put back in perspective. If she—

Tanner walked into her bedroom. She glanced at him and was surprised when her heart gave a little flip of happiness.

Wait a minute. What was up with that? She couldn't possibly be attracted to Tanner. Sure, he was tall, dark and dangerous, which made him the female version of catnip, but so what? He despised her and she only
wanted him around to keep her alive. They weren't about to get involved.

Before she could figure out what was going on, he stalked to the bed and threw several pieces of paper at her. She grabbed one and stared at it.

“What?” she asked.

“Explain these. You'd better talk fast because I'm about ready to take you back to your ex.”

The threat chased away any lingering warm fuzzies. She grabbed the pages and tried to read them. Fear made it hard to concentrate, and she had to study each word until it made sense. When that happened, she knew she'd stepped into an alternate universe.

The e-mails were from her to Christopher, begging him to take her back. She pleaded, she bargained, she offered sexual favors that made her blush. When she'd finished the first one, she knew she didn't want to read any more, nor did she know what to say.

She could feel Tanner's fury filling the room. Whatever credibility she'd built up with him had just expired.

“I didn't write these,” she told him, frantic with worry but without any idea as to how to convince him.

“They're on your computer.”

“I figured that, but I didn't write them.” She stared at the typewritten pages and wished they'd been written by hand. At least then she could demand handwriting analysis to prove her point. “I swear, it wasn't me.”

“Then who?” he asked, obviously not interested in believing her. “Oh, wait. Let me guess. Your ex-husband broke into your condo, typed these on your computer and left them for me to find.”

“Maybe.” Although she knew it sounded improbable, it had to be true. Panic swelled inside of her. “Tanner, I didn't do this. I don't want anything to do with the man.”

“Right.” He turned to leave.

Madison knew he was her only hope. Without Tanner on her side, she was as good as dead. Maybe not right away, but as soon as Christopher didn't need her anymore.

She pushed aside her computer and scrambled to her feet to chase after him. She grabbed his arm before he could step into the hallway.

He glared down at her. “I told you not to take me for a fool. That I wasn't interested in any sick games you and your ex might want to play.”

“I know. I'm not playing. I'm not doing anything. I'm the innocent bystander in all this.”

His dark eyes were unreadable, but she felt his anger. Helplessness made her stomach tighten.

“I'll do anything,” she said frantically. “Tell me how to prove my innocence. I'll sign anything. I'll—” a lightbulb went on “—I'll take a lie-detector test.”

His gaze narrowed slightly. “They're not dependable.”

“They have to be worth something.”

“I prefer drugs.”

She didn't know exactly what that meant. “Truth serum?”

“Something like that. Still interested in me finding out the truth?” Contempt filled his voice.

She dropped her hand to her side and swallowed. While the idea of being drugged so Tanner could probe her brain didn't make her want to do the happy dance, it beat the alternative of being returned to Christopher.

“All right,” she said slowly. “You can drug me.”

A muscle in his jaw tightened. “You won't have any control,” he told her. “You won't be able to keep the truth from me. It's not a pleasant experience.”

He sure wasn't going out of his way to make it any better, she thought grimly. “I doubt it is, but I can't think of another way to convince you I'm not lying. Can you?”

He shrugged as if he didn't care. Most likely, he didn't. As far as he was concerned, she'd tricked him. Tanner wasn't the sort of man to forgive that.

“So how does this happen?”

“I give you an injection, we wait twenty minutes, then we talk.”

“All right. I have to shut down my computer.”

“Come to the control room when you're done. You'll also want to go to the bathroom first.”

Because why? But she didn't ask because she didn't want to know.

 

Tanner turned off the security system in the control room so Madison could enter without setting off the alarm. He crossed to the cabinet on the far wall and opened the metal door. In addition to office supplies, extra ammunition and communications equipment, the space also held a first-aid kit and several different drugs, including sedatives and chemicals known to make people willing to talk.

Tanner studied the options before picking up one small vial and tapping it. The powerful drug not only induced the patient to tell the truth, it erased the memory of the interrogation. For his purposes, even a very
small dose had the side benefit of making the recipient feel woozy and spaced-out.

He set down the vial and stared out the window. He'd been furious when he'd found the letters. After finally deciding he could trust Madison, he'd had proof that she was jerking his chain. He'd been determined to get rid of her within the hour.

But her shock had been genuine and her willingness to do anything to prove that she hadn't written the letters made him willing to give her another chance.

What concerned him much more than her lying or not lying was that he gave a damn. His reaction to finding the letters had been personal. He'd felt as if she'd betrayed
him
and he didn't like that. Why should he care? She was a job, nothing more. Maybe she wasn't the useless, rich drama queen he'd first imagined, but she wasn't anyone he could like or respect.

Or was she? Was there any other explanation for his reluctance to drug her? It wasn't that he didn't want to hear the truth, it was that he didn't want her to feel sick and out of control. He cared about her reaction.

“You're losing it,” he muttered to himself.

A flicker of movement on one of the monitors caught his attention. He saw Angel walking up to the front of the house. There was something about the grim expression on the other man's face that warned him the news wasn't good.

Tanner pulled open the door before Angel could knock.

“It's Kelly,” Angel said flatly. “He died about an hour ago. Complications from the surgery. He never surfaced after the operation. I know you're busy here, so I've al
ready talked to his family. Shari, his fiancée, was with him at the end, as was his mom.”

Tanner felt the sharp pain lance through his gut. “He was a kid.”

“Yeah. And a good soldier. We were lucky to have known him.”

Tanner shook his head. “You tell the other men?”

“Not yet. I will. I wanted to let you know first.”

“Okay. Thanks.”

Angel nodded, then turned to leave. Tanner closed the door.

He'd known Kelly for over six years. The kid had come to him when he was barely twenty. He'd wanted a job because he thought the dangerous work was glamorous. Tanner had sent him away to grow up and get some seasoning. And to find out if Kelly was serious.

The kid was. Three years later, he'd returned after serving a tour in the Army. He'd seen action in Iraq and had left with a couple medals. Tanner had been impressed enough to offer him a temporary assignment. Kelly had proved himself and had joined the team.

Now he was dead—a kid cut down before he really had a chance to live—and all because something went wrong on what should have been a textbook operation.

“I'm ready,” Madison said.

He hadn't heard her walk down the hall. Now he stared at her, at her elegant and expensive clothes, at her perfectly colored hair, and knew she was to blame. Rage filled him.

“He's dead,” he said. “Kelly O'Neil. Irish. His family came over here nearly a hundred years ago. He has
two sisters, a mother and a fiancée. He just got engaged. Shari, his fiancée, was with him when he died. There are death benefits, a life insurance policy. Not a whole hell of a lot of comfort to a family who just lost a twenty-six-year-old kid. He'll never get married, never have children, never grow old. And for what?”