Hero for Hire Read online

  Feeling drained, Veronica walked into the room. She looked at the coffee table where Angela had placed the tray.

  Coffee, sandwiches. As if this was some sort of social gathering she was organizing, instead of waiting to pay the ransom for her son. Tension overwhelmed her. Veronica stared at the neatly stacked, crustless quarters and broke down.

  Reacting, Chad was by her side immediately. "Get me some brandy," he instructed a concerned Angela.

  Then, because it was the only thing he could do, he put his arms around Veronica and held her. Held her until the sobs she'd allowed to escape dampened his shirt and faded. A strange, inviting warmth formed where her face pressed against his chest.

  Angela hurried to the wet bar, taking out a decanter and a glass. "For you?" she wanted to know.

  "No, it's for her."

  Realizing that he was talking about her, Veronica tried to pull herself together. "I'm all right," she protested with more conviction than she felt.

  "The hell you are." He held out his hand to Angela, waiting for the glass. When she gave it to him, he placed the rim to Veronica's lips. "Drink this."

  She drew back her head, her eyes meeting his. The kindness there took her a moment to absorb. "It's just after noon—"

  Why did she have to argue with him? "Veronica, you need this." His eyes held hers, conveying things more eloquently than words. "Trust me."

  Trust me.

  The phrase echoed in her brain. Didn't he realize that she did? That she trusted him with the most precious being in her life? Her son. And she did not give her trust easily. But somehow this man with the stony expression and kind eyes had gotten to her.

  Squaring her shoulders, Veronica took the glass from him. Holding it with both hands, she tilted her head back just enough to take a sip. The liquid swirled and burned a trail through her, waking up everything in its path. She felt less like crying.

  "Better?"

  She took a deep breath. Surprisingly, she felt less shaky, more capable of going on. The smile that graced her mouth was grateful. "Yes."

  "Good." He took the glass from her and placed it on the coffee table. "Now sit down and have one or two of those undersize sandwiches." He saw resistance in her eyes. "Or I'll force-feed you."

  Something told her that wasn't an idle threat. When she looked over her shoulder at Angela for help, she discovered that the housekeeper had retreated from the room. Resigned, Veronica sank onto the sofa. She still felt a little light-headed, but knew that the brandy hadn't much to do with the sensation.

  She moved the napkins to the side but made no effort to comply with his latest directive. "Do your duties extend to baby-sitting?"

  "They extend to whatever it takes to keep the client conscious and functioning whenever possible." Since she wasn't helping herself to any of the sandwich quarters from the tray, he selected one for her. Taking one of her hands in his, he opened it and placed the sandwich quarter into it.

  The amusement bloomed, reaching her eyes. He was awkward but gentle at the same time, and it touched her in ways she couldn't begin to put into words. "Are you going to make my jaw go up and down, too?"

  He never hesitated. "If I have to."

  She smiled in response. "You don't have to." Veronica took a bite. The bread stuck to the roof of her mouth. Because there was nothing else to drink, she took a sip of brandy to wash it down. He remained silently at her side. The word faithful whispered across her mind. "You're being very kind."

  "Not a hardship."

  The slight prick of self-conscious embarrassment had him looking away. Chad picked up a sandwich quarter himself, contemplating it before finally taking a bite. He was eating to keep her company while searching for a way to word something he didn't want to say.

  Funny, wording things had never troubled him before. He'd always said what he had to say, directly and to the point, allowing the consequences to take care of themselves. Though he would never have been consciously cruel, diplomacy was something he never bothered himself about.

  But she seemed so fragile he found himself worrying about the way she might perceive something if he was too blunt about it. Still, this needed to be said, needed to be cleared up.

  "When the kidnapper calls, before you agree to make the drop—" he indicated the briefcase he had placed by the side of the sofa in case she wasn't following him "—I want you to ask him to take a picture of Casey holding up today's newspaper."

  Veronica stopped eating. Very slowly, she set down the half-finished section and looked up at Chad with eyes that forbade him to continue. Forbade him to say why the photograph was necessary. She looked away from him. "All right." Her voice was reedy.

  He wasn't exactly certain what came over him, why he suddenly found himself wanting to go the extra distance. A distance he'd never gone before, not with a client. He had no clue why this woman's tears were falling into his soul. But they were. He cupped her face in his hands, raising it until her eyes met his.

  And, he made her a solemn oath. "It's going to be all right, Veronica. I swear to you, we'll get him back."

  Silently, in the recesses of her mind, she blessed him for the pledge. She needed to believe him, to hang on to something until this ordeal was finally over. Otherwise, she wasn't sure she could make it.

  Leaning forward, she brushed his lips with hers, her gratitude unspoken but not unfelt.

  To say he was surprised was one of the biggest understatements of his life. So was his reaction to her kiss. A fire licked at his belly the likes of which he'd never felt before. Not wild and out of control, just deep. Bottomlessly deep.

  Like the thirst he'd once had for belonging.

  Caught unawares, Chad didn't drop his hands from her face. Instead, he held her there as the simple kiss deepened just a bit.

  It might have gone deeper still, had the phone not rung.

  The sound exploding in her brain, Veronica jerked back, her eyes darting around for where she'd dropped her purse. Chad was on his feet, retrieving it for her. Instead of combing through her things, he inverted the purse and deposited the contents onto the sofa. The ringing cell phone fell out, accompanied by myriad other things. Veronica snatched it up before he could offer it to her.

  "Ask for the photograph."

  The grim reminder hovering over her, she pressed the "on" button. She tilted the phone so that Chad could hear, as well.

  "Hello?"

  "Don't sound so breathless, Ronnie," the voice on the other end mocked. "Did you think I wasn't going to call?"

  Strength. She had to come from a position of strength, Veronica told herself. Otherwise, the kidnapper was going to win. She did her best to sound calm. "You took a long time to call back."

  "I was just giving you time to get the money together, Ronnie." The mocking note faded abruptly as the kidnapper got down to business. "Do you have it?"

  Veronica's eyes automatically lowered to the briefcase. "Yes, I have it."

  "Good, then—"

  Her heart hammering, Veronica looked up at Chad, seeking strength there. As if reading her mind, he nodded his encouragement. Holding the cell phone tightly, she took a deep breath, fortifying herself.

  "Before I give it to you, I want to make sure that Casey's "still—" she couldn't bring herself to say the word that hovered on her lips. "—still all right."

  "He's fine," the voice snapped impatiently.

  She didn't want to anger the kidnapper, but Chad was right. She needed to know that Casey wasn't harmed. She needed proof to allay her own fears. "No, I want to see for myself. I want you to take a picture of him holding up today's LA. Times."

  "Look, bitch, this isn't some photo shoot you're setting up. You don't dictate to me, understand? This is my show."

  Veronica could feel every part of her trembling inside, but she knew she mustn't back down. This was important. She plumbed the depths of her soul for courage, unconsciously leaning into Chad, taking strength from the warmth of his body.

  She r
aised her voice. ''And my son, my money. I don't care where you leave that photograph, but I want it. Otherwise, no deal."

  A string of obscenities came at her, making her wince. But she held her ground.

  "All right, you'll get your damn photograph. It'll be on a shelf in the women's rest room at West-wood Park in two hours." The kidnapper paused, then added, "I didn't think you had it in you, Ronnie." The laugh would have been cold and harsh even without the metallic sound that vibrated in her ear.

  The second the connection broke, she felt the room begin to spin. Perspiration came from nowhere, instantly drenching her.

  Chad caught her just as her knees buckled.

  Veronica could feel the contents of her stomach coming up her throat. A bitter taste materialized in her mouth. She tried to push him away.

  "No, don't hold me," she cried. "I'm going to be sick."

  Instead of releasing her the way she thought he would, Chad picked her up in his arms and carried her to the bathroom.

  He set her down, and her feet had just touched the tile when the retching seized her. Rather than retreat, Chad flipped the toilet seat up and helped her to her knees. He held her hair out of the way as she purged the sickness gripping her insides. She retched so hard, tears came to her eyes.

  Slowly the trembling began to subside.

  Concerned, Chad waited a second longer, still holding her hair back, one arm around her waist for support. He'd felt every wave as it had come up.

  Then, when it looked as if it over, he loosened his arm from her waist. "All done?" he asked.

  "Uh-huh." Feeling as if she'd just been turned inside out, she didn't have enough strength in her body to give anything but a feeble grunt.

  Carefully bringing Veronica to her feet, Chad pushed the lid back down and then sat her on top of the commode. He let the cold water in the sink run for several seconds before reaching for one of the embroidered washcloths on the towel rack. He glanced at the lettering as he passed the cloth under the faucet.

  "Get a lot of people making off with your washcloths?" Wringing the cloth out, he placed it on the back of her neck.

  The contact startled her and she jumped. She was only vaguely aware of his question. "What?"

  "The washcloths—you have initials on them."

  She tried to focus. "They were a gift from my mother-in-law. Subtle hint. She didn't like me keeping my name." Her fingers met his as she took possession of the cloth, bringing it around to her face.

  When Veronica finally raised her eyes to his again, they were clearer. She was beginning to feel human again. "Thank you."

  Chad muttered something unintelligible in response. He'd never found a way to gracefully handle someone else's gratitude and mostly he ignored it. "Can you walk?"

  "I think so." But she wasn't all that certain she could.

  Before she could test her legs, he picked her up in his arms again. She looked at him in surprise.

  Chad avoided her eyes. "Better not take any chances." He carried her back out to the sofa, thinking that he could have easily forgotten he was holding anything. If it hadn't been for the scent she wore. It seemed to be stealing into him like the mist at dusk. "You don't eat enough," he told her gruffly, trying to shake off the feeling that was stealing over him, as well. "You don't feel as if you weigh anything."

  "Sounds like the voice of experience," she answered, still weak. "Do you carry women around often?"

  He liked her smile. It did resemble her son's, he realized. "No, not often. You're the first. There's never been any need to." Placing her on the sofa, Chad glanced at his watch. "We have two hours. I'm going to check in with the office, see if anyone's made any progress. Why don't I have Angela make you some tea to settle your stomach?"

  Veronica pressed her hand against her stomach. "I don't think I can keep it down."

  "If you can't keep anything down, you're not coming with me."

  She had no doubt that he meant it. "You can't get into the women's room without me."

  "I'll manage."

  "I'll drink."

  Chad smiled, satisfied. "I kind of thought you might."

  Savannah had already done a cursory pass through most of the names on the list from Children's Parties, Inc., when he called her. To his disappointment, but hardly surprise, there wasn't anything to go on, at least, Savannah qualified, not yet. There was still cross-referencing to do. But so far, there was no one with as much as a warning for littering. Nothing beyond a few traffic tickets blemished the records of the people hired by Children's Parties.

  The only thing of interest, Savannah said just as he was about to hang up, was that Veronica's brother-in-law, Neil, was having difficulties with his creditors.

  Veronica had mentioned lending Neil money. Maybe this deserved closer scrutiny. "What kind of difficulties?" Chad asked.

  "The kind that has you looking over your shoulder every time you hear footsteps. Seems he can't pass up getting the royal treatment in Vegas. He's gone through the money he inherited."

  "What about his trust fund? Veronica said something about his father having set one up for him."

  There was a pause on the other end of the line. When she spoke, there was just the slightest bit of amusement in Savannah's voice. "Don't you usually refer to clients by their last name?"

  "Lancaster, Veronica, same number of letters," he said. "What's the difference?"

  "Strictly speaking, Veronica's got one less."

  He knew she was ragging on him, that ever since she'd met him, she'd been trying to set him up with one of her friends. Savannah King Walters was one of those women who thought people should come in sets, like salt and pepper shakers. Chad blew out a breath. "Tell me about the trust fund."

  Savannah got down to business. "Still intact and ironclad. He's gotten as much as he can from that at the moment. The terms are pretty clear and pretty strict. Looks as if his daddy knew just what kind of kid he'd raised."

  "Yeah, maybe the desperate kind."

  Chad frowned, turning the idea over in his mind again. He couldn't shake the feeling that, despite plausible rebuttals to the contrary, Casey knew his kidnapper. And if he did, that made Neil their most likely suspect at the moment. He knew Veronica wasn't going to be willing to believe that the boy's uncle was capable of kidnapping him. But blood did not exclude wrongdoings. Neil apparently had motive; he certainly might have had opportunity and would have been able to take the boy without Casey raising a fuss.

  "See if Ben can tail him for me."

  "Starting now?"

  "Starting now," Chad said firmly.

  "You got it. I'll page Ben for you."

  Hanging up, Chad paused for a moment, looking around the den. Two walls were completely lined with floor-to-ceiling shelves crammed with books. If they were Veronica's, she had eclectic tastes, he thought, reading some of the spines. They covered a broad spectrum of subjects. He barely had time to go through the newspaper in the morning.

  Different worlds, he reminded himself as he walked out of the room. Completely different worlds. He and Veronica had nothing in common beyond their involvement in the case. If he felt attracted to her, it was just something he needed to deal with on his own. He couldn't allow it to go any further than it already had.

  Veronica was still in the living room, curled up on the sofa and nursing a large cup of tea. Her eyes brightened when she saw him.

  "See?" She raised the cup. "I'm almost finished." And then she saw the look on his face and her smile faded. She was on her feet instantly, fearing the worst. "What's wrong?"

  "Just how well do you know your brother-in-law?"

  "Neil?" Relief that this wasn't some dire news came swiftly. On its heels came a new wave of defensiveness. "No." She shook her head, adamant. "We've been this route before, Chad. Neil wouldn't harm Casey," she insisted.

  "No one's talking about harming." Who knew? To someone as apparently irresponsible as her brother-in-law, the repercussions of a kidnapping probably never e
ven dawned on the man. ''Would he be capable of arranging something like this?"

  She didn't even have to consider the answer. "All Neil likes to arrange are dates on his social calendar." She saw that Chad was unconvinced. "I'll admit he likes to go to Vegas and gamble. Maybe he even has a gambling problem," She hesitated, her loyalty torn, before confiding, "For some reason, winning makes Neil feel as if he's earning money on his own, instead of just living off his inheritance or trust fund. But he always manages to get back on his feet again. The periodic payments from the trust fund always come in the nick of time."

  "Apparently not this time."

  She didn't like the way he said that. "What do you mean?"

  "He's in debt to the tune of a quarter of a million dollars."

  "The kidnapper's asking for three quarters," she reminded him.

  "Maybe he's saving up for a rainy day."

  Veronica remained firm as she began to pace the room. "No, not Neil. It can't be Neil. He wouldn't do this." She swung around to face Chad trying to make him agree with her. "I'd bet my life on it."

  He tried not to be swayed by the look in her eyes. If it was Neil and he had betrayed the kind of trust he saw in Veronica's eyes, Chad figured he was going to grant Angela those five minutes alone with the kidnapper she'd asked for. "Would you bet Casey's?"

  The color drained from her face. "I thought you just said he wouldn't hurt Casey."

  "Maybe he wouldn't," Chad allowed, hating having to be brutal with her. But kidnapping was a brutal crime. "But what if he's not alone?"

  Despite her resolve, she was beginning to entertain the idea. And hated it. "You're asking me to believe someone I've known for ten years, someone I've watched go from acne to aftershave, is a monster."

  "No, what I'm asking you to do is consider the possibility and really give it some thought. Are you that sure of him?"

  Her head was beginning to ache again, and she felt as if everything was closing in on her. It took effort just to breathe.

  "Right now, I'm not that sure of anything." She raised her eyes to his face. "Not even you."